There is no way!
by Luthien and Tari Oronar
Summary: Caitlin is astonished to find an unexpected visitor on a stormy night. Join her and Boromir through a long series of misdaventures. Please R&R, it should be good for laughs. ON HIATUS
1. Nightime Visitor

**Disclaimer**: Boromir's not mine (unfortunately). If he was, he'd be tied and gagged under my bed or in my closet.

**A/N**: I'm not Luthien Oronar—I'm her sister. I'm just to lazy to make my own account, so get used to the dual personality. There, that said: Please R&R because this is my first Fanfiction and most of it was written at about midnight, so…yeah.

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"Húan!" Caitlin scowled down at her Chihuahua, "Can't you see I'm busy?" The dog whined, stared up at her with pleading amber eyes, and then turned to tear to the door. "Fine," she muttered, pulling the leash off the hook by the door and grabbing her red rain poncho, "you win," she sighed. While she situated it over her head and shoulders Húan grabbed the pink leash and tried to pull it out of her hands. 

Finally she clipped it onto his collar and opened the door. Húan could not wait to use the elevator, instead making the pair run down the flight of stairs. As soon as Caitlin opened the door, rain blew in, biting her face and drenching her in an instant. Lighting flashed, thunder rolled, and rainwater flowed rapidly down the street an inch deep at the least.

As she impatiently waited for the dog to do what he needed, she became aware of a shadowy figure standing across the street under one of the thrashing palm trees. Why was someone outside on a night like this? Fear filled her as she watched him and saw that he wasn't moving. She was being watched.

"Come on, Húan," she squeaked, fear altering her tone. After clearing her throat, Caitlin continued, attempting to sound brave and natural, "You wanted to come out here so bad, now go!" The dog circled a light post, lifted his small leg, and then changed his mind. "I'm going to kill you!" she hissed. Finally Húan completed his errand, and she hurried to the door, getting out her key.

Caitlin glanced behind her, seeing with relief no shadowy figure across the street. But then, she nearly screamed upon turning about to find the man in front of the door. He clapped a hand over her mouth, "I'm not going to hurt you! I am a friend…I need shelter, can I find it with you?" he removed his hand slowly and awaited an answer.

Caitlin was trembling as she took the stranger in. Long brown hair hung in thick wet strands, hiding his face. He was tall—about six feet, she would guess. The man was dressed in clothes that looked as though they came from a Renaissance Faire. _He's a lunatic_, she realized.

"Will you provide me shelter from this rain?" he asked again.

Her face flushed, "Look mister, "I'm not that kind of girl! I don't do sharing my you-know-what with strangers!"

"No, I don't know what," he said.

"Go fly a kite, why don't you?" she snapped.

"I beg your pardon?" he seemed to be genuinely confused.

"I know, it's totally 80's, but I sort of doubt you missed that era, so buzz…off," she growled, trying to push past him, "Look, I'm getting wet! Please just get out of my face and leave me alone."

He moved but would not leave, "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm soaked as well, madam. I ask only for one night in a warm, dry place and some food."

Caitlin stepped into the hallway, dragging a shivering Húan behind her. Somehow though, she could not shut the door on him. "I already told you: I'm not that kind of person!" She almost felt bad for the poor, clueless fellow.

"It seems no one in this place is," he sighed, "If you are bother by the presence of my weapons, I'll leave them out here," he started for a belt hidden by his cloak.

She slammed the door shut in his face.


	2. Unexpected Bath

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. We wants Boromir!

**A/N:** By the way, once again we are Luthien Oronar's sister, yes precious, not Luthien Oronar herself.

Caitlin hurried back to her apartment, wanting to put the strange man out of her mind. She could not believe he had not tried anything! Hopefully he would be gone by morning, and this nothing more than a weird dream.

She skipped showering when the lightning started and a warning from the weather channel scrolled across the bottom of the TV screen. Instead, she got into her baby-blue pajamas and even wrapped her old blue robe around her even though she was not cold. Blue was her favorite color—it was very flattering to her figure and brought out the hue of her eyes—as a result, most of her wardrobe was shaded blue (or pink—her other favorite color).

Curling up on the couch, she began working on a bag of licorice and feeling no guilt because of her mercifully fast metabolism. She tried to watch the weather, but could not concentrate. Instead, she found herself thinking about that poor man out there in the storm with nothing more than that shabby cloak for protection.

When the flash flood warning popped up, she got off the couch, and clutching her robe around her, went back down the creaky stairs and to the door. If he was still there, Caitlin decided that she would let him into the apartment—for the night only, of course.

The door opened and light spilled out onto the wet landing. No man. Then Caitlin thought she saw a shadow huddled across the street. She stepped out and into the ditch. A sudden strong current knocked her off her feet! Her cheek splashed through water, hitting the pavement and scraping. She tried to get a finger hold, but the street was too slippery. A mouthful of dirty rainwater mixed with gas and leaves gagged her.

A hand suddenly grabbed the collar of her robe and pulled her out of the flash flood. She was planted on unsteady feet and when the shivers started, a scratchy warm fabric and an arm were pulled about her shoulder.

"Taking a bath, were you?" it was the voice of the stranger.

"And looking for you," she managed through chattering teeth. Her cheek began to sting.

They had been walking and were now standing on the landing. She unlocked and opened the door. "Do you want me to leave my weapons out here?" he asked again, "That is, if you are letting me in?"

She held up the finger for silence and stepped in, shivering at he blast of icy air. If Mrs. Higgins saw him, the news would be all over that the sweet, shy little Caitlin Clark had spent the night with a man in her apartment. And undoubtedly, Ted, her pastor and ex-boyfriend, would hear. Yes, his presence had to remain a secret.

She was too cold to walk up the stairs, and besides, the elevator was closer to her door. The man followed slowly and suspiciously. When Caitlin stepped into the elevator, he stopped. "Come on!" she whispered impatiently, "Are you coming or not?"

He hesitantly stepped into the elevator with her, hands holding something under his cloak. He was tense and lunged at the door when the elevator started moving up. She grabbed his wet arm, "Are you insane?" she snapped.

The weird man was all too glad to get out of the elevator. She hurried to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open . They both entered quickly, then Caitlin shut and locked the door. She turned on the lights and he jumped. "Easy does it," she said, "ever hear of a light switch?" he made no response.

Caitlin directed him to the bathroom, ordering him to strip out his wet clothes and to put on her bathrobe. She shyly apologized in advance for it being too small. In the meantime, she went in to her bedroom and changed into her alternate sweatshirt and sweatpants. Húan was sleeping on the bed.

She looked through her closets and drawers for some clothing for her guest, finally finding a huge T-shirt and some boxers from her bother. They were most likely too small, but they'd be better than nothing.

When she came out of the bedroom, her guest was standing in the kitchen, holding a monument of clothes and wearing a pink bathrobe (it had been the last one on the sales rack and just her side, something Caitlin had been very proud of.) She could not help but snicker. "Here, put these on," she said, "Let's trade. "I'll get your clothes out to dry.

He retreated once again to the bathroom and she started hanging his clothes over stools and the counter. A greenish-gray, tattered clock and a velvet-like maroon shirt with gold embroidery caught her eye first. Then she noticed a round shield leaning against the counter on the floor. _Weird_, she thought. When she saw the sword and dagger behind it, she shivered, wishing she had made him leave them outside. Tearing her gaze away from them, Caitlin draped another clock, this one finer and fur-lined, over a stool.

The door opened and her guest came out. The clothes, as she had expected, were much too small, but he was at least modest. She got her first good look at him. Brown hair lay on his shoulders in tousled waves; clear gray eyes the color of the sky after a storm were taking in the room. He was very tall, several inches over six-foot, she would guess, and in very good physical condition. Muscles were well defined, and bulged where the clothing stopped.

Caitlin cleared her throat, "I guess we should introduce ourselves…I'm Caitlin, Caitlin Clark. You are…?"

"Boromir, son of Denethor, Lord and Steward of Gondor," he introduced himself very nonchalantly.

"Right," she said slowly, wondering if the poor fellow really believed that," And I'm the Queen of England."

"Oh, your majesty, I had no idea that I'd entered your realm," he said apologetically, "Although, I must confess: I have never of heard of England. Where is that place, and is this where I am?"

She could not believe it. He actually thought he was Boromir! "Never mind. Forget it."

"What do you mean, forget it?" he questioned her.

She opened the refrigerator and got out bread, peanut butter, and blackberry jam. He could eat now and ask questions later. "I mean that I'm not the Queen of England. I was just kidding. Here, make a PBJ for yourself. Milk or water?"

"A PB and what?" he asked incredulously. She sighed. It was going to be a long night.


	3. Question and Answer Time

**_Disclaimer:_** We want Boromir! You can have everyone else!

**Reviews:**

_**Swimaura:** Thank-you! Yay! I'm glad you think it has potential, you make me happy!_

_**Arquera:** Thanks for reviewing too! I'm so excited to have two reviews! And yes, I did mean to spell it Húan (unless I had another brain burp. I think that was what the name of the hound in the 'Tale of Beren and Luthien'. At least, I'm pretty sure.)_

_I'm always open to more reviews! Enjoy!_

After explaining what a Peanut butter and jelly sandwich was, then explaining the concept of a sandwich, she made herself one and went to curl up on the couch.

'Boromir' followed suit, gingerly sitting in the pink and green LaZ-boy, and holding the sandwich cautiously.

Caitlin took a bite and 'Boromir' copied her action. "Sooo…tell me about yourself Bo."

"It's Boromir," he smiled and took another bite, "It's not bad," he muttered slowly around a mouthful of food.

"It's best with crunchy peanut butter, but I usually just buy whatever is on sale. What brings you to Florida in the middle of hurricane season?"

"What is a hurricane?" Caitlin was starting to think he did not want to answer her question.

"Just answer the question, _Boromir_," she sighed.

He finished the PBJ, wiping the crumbs off his mouth. After a long pause, he answered, "I don't remember, really. All I remember is Aragorn leaning over me and promising that he would not let Minas Tirith—The White City—fall. And then I was here."

This guy was seriously cracked, "How long have you been here?"

"I answered your question, now you answer mine. What is a hurricane?"

"Where do you come from?" she asked—more as a statement of incredulity than anything else.

'Boromir' obviously had never heard of a rhetorical question either. "I already told you."

Cramming the rest of the food in her mouth, she rolled her eyes," I…know," swallowing, "Never mind. A hurricane is a tropical storm with very strong winds revolving around the 'eye'—or the center. It starts over water, then moves inland. It's something like a water version of a tornado—and if you ask what a tornado is, I'll scream!" This he seemed to comprehend. "Your turn."

"I've been here about a week. Where is this Florida?"

Caitlin stood and moved to the little globe on her TV top. He picked it up suspiciously, turning it about in his hands curiously. "What is this…toy?"

"A globe," she hissed, "Let me guess: you've never seen one of these either, have you?" he shook his head, a sheepish look coming over his handsome face. She commented no more, but pointed to Florida. "This is Florida. We're right here," she moved her finger to point just east of Pensacola. "Is there anyone you need to contact? Anyone who'll need to know where you are?"

"Yes, my brother. I don't know how to reach him. Where is Gondor? Or Middle Earth for that matter? I cannot find it on your…map."

She tried (unsuccessfully) to smile sympathetically. "News flash, buddy. I hate to burst your bubble and all, but Middle Earth? N'existe pas. J.R.R. Tolkien sound familiar?"

He dropped to the seat. "That can't be. If Middle Earth doesn't exist, then I don't either. And I most certainly exist," he looked up at her, "I do look real to you?"

"For the most part. I'm sorry to upset you, but you really needed to know, Bo," she dropped into her nickname to see if he'd say anything.

He did not seem to notice, "Caitlin, you must believe me! I _am_ Boromir! Why would I lie to you about hat?"

The rain had all but stopped by now, and she was glad it was a Friday, because in exactly seven minutes and twenty-four seconds, it would be one o'clock. "Look, Bo. If you can prove to me that you are Boromir—a fictional character from the figment of a dead guy's imagination, then I'll believe you. Otherwise, you're out of luck. Tell me something only Boromir would know."

"Uh…all right…I never really wanted to become the Steward after my father's death. I always thought Faramir would be best suited for that. I would prefer to remain the captain of Gondor's army."

"Well, I'm sorry, but everyone agrees with you," Caitlin was beginning to get fed up with this Boromir wannabe. "Try again."

"Um, I'm forty, going on forty-one. I was born in the year 2978 to Denethor the Second and Findulas of Dol Amroth. Faramir was born five years after me and mother died in 2988. She hated living in a walled city without the sea. She missed it. I think father blamed Faramir for her dying, because it was shortly after his birth that her health began to decline," he looked hopefully at her.

She was starting to freak out. This guy knew way too much of Middle Earth, way too little of the real world, "Sorry, but a history lesson is not too convincing, and I really could care less about Boromir's life history." (So that was a lie, but he did not need to know that.)

"You still don't believe me?" he frowned and she shook her head.

"It's impossible. Because, you see, people from fiction don't suddenly come to life and show up in your apartment. Do you understand?" she pinched herself, "You see? I'm dreaming. Didn't feel a—" she glanced at her arm where she had pinched herself. "Rats."

"You felt that?"

"No. I burned my right forearm when I was a kid and I can't feel anything on it," he suddenly reached out and pinched her left arm. She flinched, "This is so unreal. I think I need some licorice."

He kept standing, even when she plopped onto the peppermint chair and began dissection of the red rope. It was not until the bag was nearly empty that she remembered her fictional guest. "Sit," she muttered, "You want some?" she waved half a rope of licorice at him. He shook his head, "Thanks, but I think I'll pass."

"OK," she finished the bag, "So how heavy was the ring?"

"I beg your pardon?" he furrowed his brow.

"You're right. Dumb question. What is dying like?"

He chuckled, but she did not find it amusing and told him so. "Are all women in your Florida like you?"

She glowered at him. "Welcome to the Twenty-first Century, Bo."

After his insult, Caitlin no longer felt like talking with the alleged Boromir, so she tossed him two blankets and a pillow for the couch, then went to her bedroom and crawled between the sheets. Húan was still sleeping.


	4. I believe

**_A/N:_** Sorry this is so late updating..._guiltily looks away_...It was on the other computer, which I was too lazy to turn on, becasue it's a real hassle. but I finally sent it to this computer, so all better!

**_Disclaimer_**: Sadly, as you already know, I don't own Boromir. But you can get him for me for Christmas! Just send him to... :D

_**Reviews:**_

**_Andrea: _**Thanks for reviewing! And I will try to add a litle more descripitions of Boromir's...hunkiness _wipes away drool and clears glazed look from eyes._

**_Jaffee Leeds: _**Mucho gracias for your review! I agree with youthe thought of my Bo-bo dead makes me cry every time. Tear-tear.

**_Psycho Elf_**: Merci beaucoup for reviewinglove the name, by the wayand sorry this is so late coming back. Thanks again and keep those reviews coming!

**_A/N 2_**: OK, now what you've all been waiting for..._dramatic drumroll in the silence_

She was in the forest, running. Running! Something followed in close pursuit. Many somethings! She dared a backwards glance and stumbled over a fallen log. A hideous face leered at her; raised its crossbow. An orc! Someone slammed into the orc, making its shot fly wild. Boromir! He clocked a blow from the orc but staggered backwards, shouting at her. _Run_!

"Run!" Caitlin jerked upright, sweating. What had woke her? Thunder flashed, illuminating the dark room, and she saw Húan standing at the foot of the bed, barking and snarling at the door. "No!" someone shouted. Her guest! A crash came, followed by a thud. Húan yipped.

Caitlin, still half-asleep, was already wrapping her sheet around her shoulders and walking to the door. Quickly she opened it and flicked on the light in one smooth motion.

'Boromir' was shouting and swinging his arms, torso, and head on the carpet, and his legs were tangled up in his sheets and still on the couch. She ran to his side with Yipper, AKA, Húan, stumbling behind her, tripping on the sheet she wore.

"Bo! Bo! Wake up!": she called, kneeling beside him and trying to hold his arms down. His eyes flashed open and he grabbed her shoulders. "Little ones!" he gasped in a raspy voice, "They took the little ones!"

Caitlin touched his forehead. It was clammy and cold. She stroked it like her mom used to do for her. She knew what to say, "Merry and Pippin are fine, Boromir. You saved them."

"Where is Frodo?" he gripped her shoulder so hard that she almost whimpered.

"Aragon let him go. He does destroy the ring. Minas Tirith doesn't fall. Aragorn becomes the King, and Faramir becomes the steward after your father and he marries the princess of Rohan." She brushed his hair away from his eyes. Such beautiful clear gray eyes.

"How do you know all this?" he seemed much more awake now, but still out of sorts. When he tried to sit up though, he gasped and fell back, hand clutching his stomach and chest.

"What is it?" Caitlin grabbed his hands, "What's the matter?" He pushed her hands away, standing on unsteady legs

"Nothing. I'm sorry to have woken you," he said gruffly before collapsing heavily once again on the couch.

She did not take the hint. "Something pains you. Tell me what," Caitlin commanded "No wait, let me guess:" a sudden revelation had passed over her, "The Orc arrows."

He made no response, but turned away from her, making as though to go back to sleep. She grabbed his shoulder and turned him back to face her. "You're trying to tell me that going from alive to dead to alive doesn't heal wounds? Well that's just perfect—who would have guessed? Stay right there; I'm going to get the first-aid kit."

Caitlin's hands were shaking with excitement. "I can't believe it! Boromir is in _my_ apartment!" she exclaimed to Húan in a loud whisper. She came back into the living room a few minutes later, trying open the box. She always had difficulties with it, never being able to open it, even though her three-year-old nephew could—since the age of eighteen months! Boromir was leaning against the back of the couch, eyes closed and mouth pressed firmly into a stiff line. He had pulled the blanket over his chest. She sighed, staring at him for a long moment with soft eyes, musing over the accursed stubbornness of men. Then she took a seat at his side.

She started to take the shirt off but Boromir stopped her firmly.

"Let me take the shirt off."

"No."

Yes!"

"No."

"I'll cut it off."

"I'm fine."

"I'm serious!"

"I'm fine!"

"I'll cut it off, I really will."

"Caitlin! I am fine!"

"OK!" She rummaged for the scissors, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Fine," he finally conceded sullenly.

"I can't believe you couldn't see how weak he was," she scolded herself, ignoring Boromir's presence. She often carried on conversations with herself. The psychologist had said that she'd grow out of it, but so far there had been no such luck. And it had been like this since she head read 'The Hobbit' at seven—maybe there was some connection!

Then the shirt that was two sizes too small was gone. She sighed, staring at the three, slightly swollen, scabbed holes, but mostly at the bronzed chest and smooth, taut muscles. "I believe…"


	5. Introductions

**_A/N_**: Wow! Five reviews in four days! That's like...a record:D Keep reviewing, and I'll keep updating more regularly!

**_Disclaimer_**: Why do you continue to torment me? I know Boromir's not mine! I'm going to suffer from a nervous break-down! Tear-tear.

**_Reviews_**:

**_Jaffee Leeds_**: Sigh...isn't my precahemBoromir just the sweetest? Oh and thanks for the recomendationI'm reading _Welcome to Rivendell, Mr. Anderson_ and I love it!

**_Jousting Elf with a Sabre_**: Yeah! I rock! Thank-you!

**_EmySumei_**: LOL!

**_Mystical Full Moon Maiden_**: Heh-heh! You remind me of one of my friends! Yes, I have read the booksalmost done reading them for the second time. Don't you wish Tolkien had spent more time telling us poor girls about Boromir? I'm glad you like it and I hope you like this chapter too!

**_Siriusly Sirius Lily Black_**: Don't you feel bad for them? Stuck together? I wish I was her...:D

The sky brightened at seven on Saturday. Boromir was lying on the couch with the blanket draped over his golden chest. She'd never enjoyed patching injuries as much as last night, or that morning, or whatever.

The scabs had dirt in them, so she had cleaned them and put on some band-aids—large, of course. The painkiller she'd mixed into the water had knocked him out.

The only sound was Boromir's deep even breathing…and Húan's panting…and the humming of the refrigerator… and the traffic of the evacuated locals returning home. OK, so it was not as romantic of a setting as she would have preferred, but who was she to complain? She had Boromir! In her apartment! Who said that miracles didn't happen?

And then reality set in. Caitlin _hated_ reality. There was no way she was letting her Precious, er that is, Boromir, go walking out defenseless into the 21st century! But how could she explain who he was? "Oh yeah, this is Boromir. You know? _Lord of the Rings_? No, I'm not insane, it's true!" Bo stirred on the couch and she grinned. It was playtime!

"This is the pantry. Here is the cereal—eat this for breakfast—I keep the cans of soup here. I always get Campbell 'cause it's usually on sale," she paused her narrative to clarify, "That means it's a bargain, cheaper than usual. Third shelf, is bread. Or buns, or just pastry items. This is also popcorn (a snack). Bottom shelf: Húan feed. The row of cans at the left is for breakfast, she brought a can out and showed it to Boromir, "It's chicken-flavored. Middle is for lunch—it's plain and the right row is beef for supper."

After demonstrating how to open a can and feed Húan without getting trampled, she pulled out the cereal, "You can have Total or Fruit loops. Or a breakfast bar. I'd recommend Total even tough it's nasty. She poured him a large bowl and milk, the handed him the spoon. "Enjoy."

Whilst he ate, she explained use of the faucet, electric stove, refrigerator, microwave, radio, and TV. His face went blank after the stove, but she kept going. While he worked on his second bowl, she taught him the alphabet, depending on his adorable memory and intellect to pick up. On bowl three, he learned numbers and combinations. Finally Caitlin started to worry, "you're not going to eat all of that, are you?" she asked, "'Cause I need this all to last till my next paycheck. And typically, one eats only one bowl of cereal at a time."

"You people must eat like birds!" he exclaimed, "This whole box wouldn't be enough to satisfy the belly of a full-grown man!"

"Obviously," she remarked dryly. As usual, he missed the point. "Being dead apparently does not affect your appetite very much."

He scowled, "Stop referring to that. It's not appreciated."

"What's not appreciated is you cleaning out my cupboard," she returned, "Look: I'm not what can be referred to as rich. So as long as you're here, you're poor too. So if you don't like my lifestyle," she gestured toward the door, "Quittez l'appartement."

He pushed away the bowl and stood, "Why am I getting the feeling that you don't like me very much?"

She stood too. Húan whimpered from his station on the couch, then retreated into the bedroom. "Let's just say that I liked you better before I met you." They glowered at each other for a long minute. The clock ticked steadily in the background. Finally, they both sat back down. Then the ticking abruptly stopped.

Caitlin groaned despite herself. That stupid thing was more trouble than it was worth, constantly stopping or falling off the wall.

Boromir spoke first, "Maybe it would help if we started over," she grunted noncommittally and Húan poked his head around the corner cautiously. Boromir thrust his hand across the table. "I'm Boromir, son of Denethor, Lord and Steward of Gondor."

"I'm Caitlin," she responded after a moment, "Caitlin Clark."

"A pleasure to meet you, Caitlin," Boromir said, grinning charmingly.


	6. Walmart

_**A/N: I'm** kinda **updating regularly. :P**_

**_Disclaimer: Fine. Boromir's mine. I keep him under my bed. Happy:D_**

**_Reviews:_**

**_Jousting Elf with a Sabre: Thank-you. You know...you remind me of my sister. Especially on that whole Moscow thing. Sounds like something she would say. :D_**

**_Jaffee Leeds: Yah, I absolutely LOVE that part when Boromir smacks her. It was awesome! Hey, everybody! Read "Welcom to Rivendell Mr. Anderson"it's awesome! ;)_**

**_EmySumei: My poor Boromir. You'll just have to wait and see! 8) Yah...he's kinda a pig. lol_**

_**Dragon Fire: Yay. Thank-you for reviewing. You can review longer later. lol I'm glad you like it. hugs self, feeling special**_

_**Mystical Full Moon Maiden: Well, you can't be her. She's me! So hah. Beet you to it. :P That would be fun (IM/chat) I love that..."electricity." :)**_

_**anomynous: Really? You can tell? lol Yah. I love him. makes googly eyes at picture of precious Boromir Sigh. Thank-you for your review. :D

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Caitlin left him with strict instructions not to open the door for anyone. She drove her rusty 1980 Chevy—complete with a new dent from an uprooted tree that had been thrown against the driver's door and numerous scratches from the many shingles littering the streets.

She drove slowly into Pensacola on crowded streets, hoping to find some open store. There was absolutely no way Boromir was going anywhere dressed as he was.

Wal-Mart had just opened its doors; already the wet parking lot was almost full. "Good old Wally-World," Caitlin grumbled as she parked in the end of the row and stepped into nearly an inch of water. The drains must have gotten plugged.

By the time Caitlin got to the check-out she'd had to arm-wrestle a middle-aged man in a holey, sweat–stained gray muscle shirt for the last pair of blue jeans, almost got run over by a young mother with a screaming infant, race an old couple to the last can of soup, play tug-of-war with a teen-aged boy for the shirt she had just picked up, and stand in a long, restless line for over an hour. To make matters worse, upon getting _out_ the doors (an adventure in itself) she saw three teenagers trying to hotwire her truck, and had to leave her cart behind to rescue the old vehicle, then run back to prevent her merchandise from being stolen by a shady-looking couple in their thirties.

She did make it out of the parking lot in one piece though, despite the fact that a woman who had tried to pull in front of her unsuccessfully was giving her dirty looks and inappropriate gestures. Then wind began to whip through the branches of the palm trees lining the road. The voice of the DJ came onto the radio, announcing a tropical storm coming off Ivan was blowing in. Caitlin sighed, wishing dismally for a moment that she had stayed in Michigan. At least there had been less rain and wind there.

The apartment building buzzed with activity as the inhabitants began to show up and set to work repairing their homes. Mrs. Higgins was hanging out her door, faithfully scanning the hall for anything worthy of gossip. Upon seeing Caitlin, she smirked knowingly.

"Your little mutt was acting quite loudly a while ago," she proclaimed in a dry voice that reminded Caitlin of a gate opening on rusty hinges.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Higgins," Caitlin edged past the old gossip toward her door, "I'll walk Húan as soon as I put the groceries away."

"Yes, well," the elderly woman crowded against her as she inserted the key into the lock, "I am almost certain that I heard a _man's_ voice…and your dog quieted then."

Caitlin winced and opened the door, imagining the she was going to do to Boromir—she had quite explicitly told him to say quiet! The television was on, and Húan peeked his head over the top of the couch guiltily. "Oh look," Caitlin said weakly, "I left the TV on. Must have been what you heard. Bye now!" she slammed the door and dead-bolted it for good measure.

The TV flickered, and Saturday Morning cartoons took the place of the reporter. "You're very smart," she growled, dropping her groceries on the counter.

Húan whimpered and fled. Caitlin stomped over and took the remote out of Boromir's hands. He looked every bit as guilty as Húan had, laying on the couch with the now empty box of cereal beside him. "Good morning," he murmured, shifting in a fruitless attempt to hide the Total box.

"Do not eat my food!" she growled, "And while you're restraining from gluttony, keep your voice down! Mrs. Higgins heard you!" she took the box and tossed it in the garbage.

"Mrs. Higgins? Who is that?" Boromir stood and followed her into the kitchen.

She stopped to think of a way to fully give the effect of the nosy old woman to Boromir, "How's this: someone doesn't breath without her knowing. She can get more information than the CIA could with shorter time. And if I had a _mouse_ living under my bed, she'd know—before I did and without stepping foot inside my apartment—now how do you think I'm going to hide you from her? Especially if you don't try to remain hidden?"

He thought about what she'd said for a minute, and she knew he was about to ask her what the CIA was. Instead though, he asked, "So what if she knows? You've done nothing wrong? Or is it not a custom in your Florida to provide strangers and soldiers with shelter."

Caitlin shook her head, "Remember, Bo. This is a different world than you're from. Literally."

* * *

_**A/N**_: Oooh...Cliffy. :D I promise to try and update sooner! Rememberreviews help boost my ego! (hint, hint. lol) 


	7. Bob's Burgers

**_Disclaimer_**: OK, remember that about him under my bed? He ran away! I can't find him anywhere! I think I'll have a nervous breakdown. Tear, tear.

_**Reviews:**_

_Jousting Elf with a Sabre: _Really? You think so! You just made my day! I hope Moscow suits you—I've always wanted to go there. But it's just to cold!

_Lobo Diablo_: With fake old lady French accent "Ees zees long enough pour vous?" I hope this is better:D

_Fear the Fluff_: Just now? This should have been on your favourites months ago—oh wait, it isn't that old. Oh well. By the way—I'm loving your name!

_Mystical Full Moon Maiden_: Oooh, scarey. Sorry this is late, you know how distracted I can get! (P.S: Hairy says hi to Yellow Peanutbutter.) :D

_Jaffee Leeds_: She is rude, isn't she. But sometimes, I just can't control these people! I'll have a talk with Caitlin and tell her to be nice. I love Mrs. Higgins too! And you've only just met her!

**A/N) **Guess what! Tari just learned how to make a page break! ARen't I a bloody genius!  
Luthien: Only because I told you! shakes head Blondes  
Tari: Shhhh!

* * *

One thing was for certain, Caitlin thought dreamily, watching Boromir shamelessly, Gondorian men might be conceited, but they sure looked good in plaid.

They were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, allegedly watching the news report (although it was becoming increasingly difficult to pay attention to the aforementioned report).

"Who is Ivan? And why does he attack the Realm of Florida?" Boromir asked, eyes still fixed on the screen as a commercial for Tums replaced the carnage left in Ivan's wake.

"Huh? Who? Oh, that. It's just Florida," she murmured, startled, "And remember our little discussion about hurricanes? Ivan is—was—a hurricane."

"Aha. Of course," Boromir stood slowly, "Is there anything to eat here? I'm hungry enough to eat a warg—not a pleasant experience, I can assure you."

"I'm not gonna ask," Caitlin rolled off the couch and followed him into the kitchen? "Are you always this hungry? Never mind. How's about I introduce you to Bob's Burgers?"

"Who is Bob?" Boromir wondered as she grabbed her keys, "It's a restaurant," she replied, "You have those in Gondor, right?"

"I suppose," he said slowly, shaking his head.

Caitlin cracked the door open and peeked down the hall. Mrs. Higgin's door was closed. On tiptoes she hurried to the stairs, followed closely by Boromir.

No one intercepted them, and they made it to Old Rusty, as she commonly referred to the truck, without incident.

As they started the drive to Bob's Burgers Caitlin reached a conclusion, "I've reached a conclusion."

Boromir was too busy trying to listen to all the radio channels to pay her any attention. Thankfully the tuner was the only thing he'd discovered as of then. She knew not what he would do with the volume, but could foretell the outcome would inevitably end in her insanity. "Come on, come on! Quit already!"

"What?" Boromir glanced up innocently.

"You know very well what I mean! Hand's off!" she waited impatiently for him to comply before continuing. "We need to invent a background story for you…and we ought to start with a name—are you listening to me?"

Now that they had entered the commercial section of Pensacola, the traffic had nearly tripled, and Boromir was glued to the window, staring at the traffic.

Finally he grunted affirmatively. Suddenly, she slammed on the brakes as the van in front of them stopped without warning. Boromir was tossed forward, slamming into the dashboard. He grumbled indignantly and returned to his seat as Caitlin snickered at him.

"We have seatbelts for a reason, Bucko."

With no further ado, they reached Bob's Burgers. Caitlin was actually surprised that it was open, all things considering, but Bob _was_ a taskmaster. The parking lot was full of debris but relatively empty otherwise. "I'm ordering for you," she decided to lay down the rules before they went in. "Double burger OK?"

He shrugged, "I suppose so. Whatever a double burger is."

"Good." She ignored the veiled sarcasm, although she was proud that after not even a full day in her company he was picking up sarcasm. They got out at the same time although Boromir seemed to be having a hard time opening the door. The air-conditioning was on full blast, and when they opened the door it came out in an icy surge of wind. "Goosebumps," she explained as she shivered, "Why does the girl do that?"

They stood in front of the counter for several minutes before Caitlin decided that there was no one anywhere in the vicinity of the counter. "Lacey!"

Her friend and coworker appeared, trying to wrap a burger at the same time she was putting a lid on a soda. She looked about ready to cry. "Caitlin I'm so glad you're here! Everything is broken and I'm swamped!" then she noticed Boromir. "Oh. I should have known you weren't here to work."

"Oh no! I'd be glad to help and so would Bo. She grabbed his elbow and dragged him behind the counter. "What's broken?"

"Uh, didn't I just say everything?" she began but quickly added, "The air conditioner would be a good place to start."

Caitlin took the soda and burger, "You mean you didn't turn it all the way up?" she teased.

Defensively Lacey exclaimed, "No! When I turned it—oh. You're teasing me" She grinned, "Those go to the guy in the corner and here's his receipt. Thanks Cait—you're a doll."

"Show Bo the air conditioner and maybe he can work on it," Boromir gave her a pleading look as Lacey eagerly dragged him away.

Caitlin stopped halfway to the booth. _No!_ her mind screamed. It was Ted. Perfect. And he was watching her disapprovingly. "Come on," she muttered finally, "Keep walking." Her feet started forward again. "Here's your order sir," she muttered turning away quickly.

He grabbed her wrist. "Caitlin!" she turned slowly, "Who was that?"

"Ted," she rolled her eyes and sat down across from him. Confidentially, she leaned closer, "We've been over this already. We aren't a couple anymore. Stop being so possessive. If I want to go out with someone else, I'm free to do so."

"So you're—" Ted started but she cut him off, rather rudely she reflected.

"No! He's just a friend, but I don't need to clear it with you if I do decide to go out again. I don't know why you can't just accept that!"

"I just don't want you to get hurt," murmured her ex-boyfriend.

She patted his hand reassuringly. She really had broken his heart. "Ted, you know this doesn't mean we can't be friends. I'll always look up to you and love you—but as a friend. We just weren't right for each other. You know that we would have ended up tearing one another apart."

Ted shrugged, "Yeah but…is he staying with you?"

"Ted!"

"Sorry, sorry." She shook her head affectionately.

"Enjoy your meal and I'll see you tomorrow. K?"

"Yeah," he grumbled unenthusiastically.


	8. Trouble comes in Threes

**_A/N_:** What? Did poor Tari offend everyone? Don't you love me anymore? I think I'm going to cry. "Boromir! Wher'e's your shoulder? I can't find any tissues!"

_**Disclaimer**_: Haven't yougathered by now that I can't have him?Tolkien's so selfish. He won't share one litle Gondorian with me. Pouty face

**_Reviews_**:

**_Mad-Aniviel_**: Arrogant! Arrogant! Who said anything about my precious being arrogant! I mean, just because he's always right and...annoying voice drones on and on and on into the darkness.

_faeriekittie306 animelover_: Thanks for your review! Sorry this is so late. My dumb computer crashed. Again. Sometimes I'd like to just throw it out the nearest window. Of course, then I'd have to jump out after it becasue I can't live without it. :) Sigh--it's all just a big circle!

**_A/N 2_**: Please! I beg of you! I can't sleep at night if I don't have reviews!

_Luthien:_ You have insomnia, you idiot!  
_Tari:_ No I don't! Shhhh!

Heh-heh. Excuse those two, they do like to bicker so. In any case--**_REVIEW!_** (And yes, that was a shout. Did you hear it:D)

Caitlin shook her head affectionately—poor Ted—and returned to the kitchen. "Bo? How's the air-conditioner coming?"

There was a loud bang and she stifled a chuckle. Then Boromir shouted, "Are you trying to kill me?" She made her way to the maintenance closet where Boromir had managed to disassemble the air conditioner and was now staring at the mess he had made.

"Having fun?" she giggled again

Boromir scowled, "No, not really." She chortled once more and he asked her sharply, "What was the point of bringing me in here? I have never even seen one of these contraptions in my life."

"Why Bo!" she feigned shock, "Surely you are aware that there are there are two purposes for males: to fix things and to look…nummy," she smirked at his frown, then squealed as he lunged forward and grabbed her waist.

"No! No!" she squealed as black grease was smeared across her face.

Lacey laughed as she walked by, and Boromir abruptly released Caitlin. She wiped her face with a towel and threw it at him.

Lacey chortled knowingly as the door opened and a red-faced Caitlin entered the kitchen. Despite Caitlin's loud protests, she continued her laughs as her friend left with another tray.

Two hours later, Caitlin left with Bo, leaving an empty restaurant with a fully functional air-conditioner and smug Lacey. Boromir carried the bag of burgers and fries, still suspicious, in one hand and two vanilla shakes in the other.

They got in the cab at the same time. Caitlin ducked suddenly, pulling Boromir down. He tensed, hands going instinctively to his belt where his sword should have been—if a certain female had not forced him to leave it at the apartment.

"What?" he hissed, "What is it?"

Slowly Caitlin poked her head over the dashboard, quickly jerking it back down. "It's Ted," she whispered theatrically.

"Ted?" he sounded utterly incredulous. "Who is Ted, and why in the name of Eru are we hiding from him?

"Ted was my boyfriend, abut even though I broke up with him six months ago, he seems to think we're still together!"

Boromir looked blankly at her. "That's nice. Translation please?"

Quietly Caitlin allowed herself a wry chuckle. "Well," she glanced up but seemed still unsatisfied, "Ted was my…we were courting, sort of, and now…we're not—we're just friends. He still acts like we're a couple though!"

Boromir peered through the scratched and tinted windshield. "The man with dark hair?" she grunted affirmatively, "Who is he talking to?"

"What!" Caitlin's head shot up and she groaned, "This is a nightmare! Oh!" she banged her head on the steering wheel, which began to beep in short spurts.

"Uh, Lady Caitlin?" he looked around, "Lady Caitlin?"

"Wake me up in the morning," she moaned despairingly. At Boromir's rather confused silence she exclaimed in mournful tones, "He's talking to Mrs. Higgins."

There was a pause, "The busybody?"

"Yes!" Caitlin growled, "The old bat!" She made a strangling motion, "I'd like to just…." The gestures became more emphatic until she pounded her open palm with her fist. "what is she doing here?" another silence stretched, long and still, then, "Can this day get _any_ worse?" with that phrase, both began to search the sky warily for rain clouds or stray lighting bolts passing through.

Their bane came in the form of a white glob specked with crimson seeds plunking onto the windshield. Caitlin regarded it silently for a moment. "Lovely."


	9. Indigestion

**_Disclaimer_**: You know the story. Tolkien is a selfish pig! He's got everyone else, why won't he share one measly Gondorian with poor me?

**_Reviews_**:

_Jousting Elf with a Sabre_: lol—and you should be! Just kidding. I hope you like this chappie too. I know I do!

_Mad-Aniviel_: Gasp! Thank-you!

_The Great White Emu_: Well, seeing as how you died from that horrible affliction of laughter, you might have a difficult time replying, but I'll give it a shot: would you like white or red roses for your funeral?

_Faeriekittie306animelover:_: I wouldn't being in her position! Nuh-uh. Boromir….all for _me…._my own….my…._precious!_

_Mystical Full Moon Maided_: Grrrrr….you naughty child! Yes, you very bad! Oh well. I'll live:D

**_A/N_**: Sorry that this is so dreadfully late. Writer's block, you know. And then someone—glares at Luthien was hogging the computer all week and they closed the bloody school library! OK, I'm calm now.

Well, enjoy this chapter and in order to avoid any more delays: send me chocolate! How is that related? I' m still trying to work that out. :D

Caitlin didn't bother trying to keep Boromir hidden when they returned to the apartment. Mrs. Higgins already knew, so it may well just be broadcast over national television—that was about how fast word would travel in any case.

The day continued to get worse. As they arrived at the apartment door, and Caitlin fished in her purse for the key, an odor, and, she believed she could see, a greenish gas slipping under the door. Sure enough, upon opening the door, Caitlin promptly stepped in the present Húan had thoughtfully left for her.

Caitlin slowly lifted her foot out of the moist, still warm pile. Húan timidly peeked his head around the corner and whimpered at the horrendous face Caitlin turned toward him.

"Boromir," she said in a very slow and disturbingly quiet voice, "Take the dog outside…before I kill him."

Húan darted at Boromir and tried to hide behind his legs. He yelped when Caitlin snarled at him, turning and attempting to run out the door. Unfortunately for him, the door had already closed and he ran into the hard paneling. Now yipping, he fell backwards.

Hastily Boromir threw open the door. As Caitlin glared at their retreating backs, she reflected that the Gondorian had probably never seen a snarling woman before.

Never mind that. She carefully untied her shoe and slipped it off, wondering how much damage would be incurred by putting it in a washing machine. "Oh it stinks!" she exclaimed, disgusted, as she saw the damp sock.

As she hobbled to the closet, there to get cleaner, she heard a piercing scream followed by a series of thumps.

Húan's mess forgotten, she ran out the door and down the hallway. The cowardly Chihuahua cowered at the head of the stairs. Old Mrs. Higgins lay at the bottom moaning and shrieking at Boromir, who was hurrying down the stairs.

Caitlin followed rapidly. Boromir seemed to know precisely what he was doing, speaking quietly to Mrs. Higgins who responded shrilly, slapping his hands away. She stood behind him, not sure what to do. "Caitlin, her leg is broken," he murmured in a terribly natural tone of voice, seeming not to be the least bit disturbed by what had just happened, as though people broke their legs al the time.

"I'll call 911," she responded, turning to the lobby phone. As she dialed, Boromir turned away from the loud old woman.

"You'll call what?"

The ambulance arrived shortly. Apparently Húan—who had only just completed the trek down the stairs on his own—was scared of the strangers. He piddled the entire way to the door, snapping at Caitlin's fingers as she tried to pull him quickly out.

AS the paramedics lifted Mrs. Higgins on a stretcher, she continued pointing and hissing at Boromir. He was casually explaining to one of the emergency personal what had caused Mrs. Higgins's fall.

Mrs. Higgins and the stretcher were slid into the back of the ambulance and the door slammed shut behind her, abruptly cutting off her loud complaints. The ambulance pulled away from the curb and flew down the street, sirens and lights flashing and blaring at the afternoon.

Húan, who was still lose, ran after the ambulance for a time, yipping and barking, but his pursuit was cut short when he tripped in a pothole.

"Will this day _never_ end?" Caitlin moaned, "I'm so sick of this!"

Boromir tried to smile reassuringly, "You know what they say: Trouble comes in threes."

Evening found Boromir trying to shove Caitlin out of the kitchen. She had absentmindedly asked him to make something for supper, but then swiftly taken it back. But Boromir continued to insist. She reminded him of his cousin, Lothíriel, and he was determined to make her take a brief break from her nonstop, breakneck pace.

He finally succeeded and she went to shower. The water turned on, and she began belting out some song about gold and shooting stars and the world rocking someone. He smiled and chuckled at her. Singing was clearly not her strong point.

Twenty minutes later, the water stopped. She was humming an upbeat tune and her feet were beating out a rhythm on the tile. The noise abruptly stopped. Several seconds later, she screamed.

Boromir dropped the pan, spilling the chicken he had been roasting across the kitchen floor. Grabbing his dagger from the counter, he ran to the bathroom and hastily threw open the door. Caitlin squealed and turned away, clutching her fluffy yellow towel tighter around her.

"What happened?" Boromir exclaimed, searching the room with keen eyes, "Are you all right?"

"Noth—nothing—Boromir…tell me honestly: do I look like a Mary Sue? Don't lie!"

He sighed, shaking his head, "What are you talking about? You shouldn't scream like that, Caitlin. What if you'd been hurt?"

"Sorry," she murmured contritely, "but honestly. Do I look like a Mary-Sue?"

He blushed suddenly and Caitlin couldn't help but think how cute he looked when he was blushing. "No. You look like a Caitlin Clark. Now get dressed," he commanded her gruffly.

Squeaking, Caitlin abruptly recalled that she wore only a towel, and dove behind the shower curtain.

Boromir quit the bathroom, still blushing. Proper codes of behavior demanded that he not look upon an undressed woman to whom he was unwedded. And the feelings that had swept over him…he had never felt that way before.

In the kitchen, Húan was happily cleaning Boromir's mess. The two stared at each other, and then Húan belched.

Caitlin snuck out of the bathroom, still mortified; she'd never be able to face Boromir again. What if her towel had slipped? Or if he had come in a second later? But she had been unable to help herself. While washing her face, it suddenly dawned on her: she displayed many of the symptoms of a Mary-Sue. Now if that was not an appropriate cause for fear, she did not know what was!

Boromir had set the table and was carrying over a large pot of creamy soup. They avoided looking at one another as both sat. Silently he dished out the soup and bread.

He reached for his spoon, stopping quickly when he noticed Caitlin quietly bowing her head and folding her hands. She was silent for a moment, and then murmured, "Thank-you Father for this food...and the hands that prepared it. Be with Mrs. Higgins and help her to heal…And _please_ let the rest of this day be uneventful! Thank-you. Amen."

Now she reached for her spoon, but it was her turn to stop. Boromir was looking quizzically at her. "What?"

"What was that?"

What was what? Oh! _That_? I was praying. I'm a Christian."

"You're a what?"

Caitlin sighed, "I forgot for a moment that you aren't from around here. Um…okay: you know Eru, right?" he nodded, "Well God is like Eru. He made everything and he saved me. So I thank him."

Boromir nodded slowly and seemed to be about to say something in reply when a dry heaving from beneath the table invaded the atmosphere.

Both Boromir and Caitlin slowly bent and peered beneath the eaves. Húan had stood and was tensely bracing himself, heaving. "Not on the carpet!" Caitiln screamed, throwing herself to the floor and attempting to push her dog onto the tile floor.

Bracing his legs, Húan refused to move, "Not…on…my carpet!" she cried again, throwing all her weight into shoving hi from beneath the table.

No sooner had his nose crossed the edge of the carpet than one final, mighty heave left a pile of partially digested chicken skin and bone.

"That might be my fault." Boromir finally said.


	10. Competition

**_A/N_**: I know, I know: This is starting to sound really familiar. But it's true this time! I have an excuse—a good one! I've been working on this at school, and I had this chapter as well as part of the next time done. Well, it's gone. Not just gone. I mean, it's really and truly _gone._ So, yeah. I had to start over from scratch, and I'm not very happy with this chapter. Then, I had finals and I was forced to devote all my time to preparing—by the way, it was worth it! (Not that anyone cares, but I am very happy about this: on my final in Advanced Algebra, I got a 106! Ha! I showed that little 8th grader…not that I have anything against them, but it was embarrassing for a sophomore to be being beat by a little kid! Once again, I have nothing against 8th graders. Just so you all know! ;) )

Enough of that. Here is an update, and hopefully you won't have to wait so long again.

**_Reviews_**: Thanks to all my reviewers. I love you all! lol

_Mystical Full Moon Maiden_: Well, so much for updating soon! By the way—I really love your redoing of **_Sue Bashers_** it's so funny!

_Jaffee Leeds_: I'm Tari—remember, Tari is the cute one! Lol Isn't Boromir sweet? Hopefully in this chapter, you'll see more of the 'fully competent' Boromir we all love.

_Mad-Aniviel: _Yes, Huan's stomach did seem to be a bit off. Gasp! Do you think it was something he ate?  Good old washing machines—where would we be without them?

_Archimedes-Factotum_: I love your name! Is it Latin? It sounds really familiar like I should know what it means, and I know that you'll tell me and I'll be like, Oh duh. Hmm, do you think it is a chihauha thing?

_Amber Chase:_ Yes, we all love Boromir!

**_Disclaimer_**: The usual: Tolkien was a selfish pig, and after years of study, there is still no evidence of him bequeathing Boromir to me. He's the only one I want! But he's on loan, so I'm happy…for now.

* * *

Morning finally came after a long night of following Húan around with a rapidly diminishing roll of paper towels and sanitizing spray. Caitlin swore that she would stop procrastinating and purchase the doggy crate. That or she could just toss the dog out the window; the second option sounded more and more tantalizing with every squirt of the bottle.

The dawn found Húan finally sleeping uneasily on his dog bed. Caitlin was leaning against Boromir's shoulder, drool making a wet puddle grow across his sleeve. He was awake, watching Húan vigilantly and sitting very still in order to keep from waking Caitlin.

Suddenly, Caitlin jumped up. "What time is it?" she asked, voice blurred and thick.

"Morning," Boromir answered her.

She sat back down and leaned against his shoulder, not caring—or noticing—the wetness. Sleep blurred eyes studied the clock above the TV. "It's almost seven," she groaned, "I have to go to church."

Pulling herself to her feet, she stumbled to her room, mumbling something about Boromir going to take a shower.

She emerged twenty minutes later from the bedroom, face shining and eyes clear. She wore a white woolen boat neck sweater and lavender skirt

Húan was sitting at Boromir's feet, paws on his legs. "He woke up and wanted food. I did not know if that would be wise after last night, however."

She glowered at her dog as she dug out his can of chicken dog food. "No. It's not wise," she growled.

Húan, oblivious to her to e of voice, hurried to where she was opening the can, the entire backside of his body shaking in excitement."_ Half_ a can," she told him, spooning it out. Húan lunged at the dish, wolfing the wet food down.

* * *

The Chevy rattled into the parking stall, wheezing as the ignition clicked off. Caitlin patted the dashboard fondly and stepped out. "Want to go through it once more?" she asked Boromir.

He sighed, "Caitlin, we've gone over it ten times—I had it memorized the first time."

"I'd feel better!" Caitlin begged him, "Seriously this is my _reputation_ we're talking about here!"

"Boris Dorowsky; family friend; lost home and belongings in hurricane. Happy?"

"Yes." She smiled sweetly at an old couple walking past them, and then snickered as the old woman tripped in a pothole and nearly dragged both her and her husband to the ground. "That'll teach her not to stare," she grumbled.  
He frowned at her and shook his head disapprovingly, then held open the door for her. Caitlin laughed, "You know, Bo, if you're really going to be mad at me, you shouldn't be all nice the next moment. It's hard to take you seriously."

Before Boromir had time to shoot back a decent rebuttal, Ted strode with determined steps from his office into the hall. "Caitlin! God morning," he called. "Who is your friend?" he asked after giving her an embrace that was not quick enough for Boromir.

His eyes narrowed at the possessive gesture. "Boris—Boris Dorowski. Am I correct in assuming that you are Ted? Caitlin's _spiritual leader_?" He emphasized the last two words as though to remind Ted that the young woman was not his chattel.

The dislike was plainly mutual as Ted coolly shook Boromir's hand, "I am."

The two men stood silently, glaring at each other. After a long, uncomfortable pause, Caitlin grabbed Boromir's arm. "Well then! Good seeing you Ted. Later!" and pulled him through the doors and into the sanctuary.

"Well that was awkward!" she exclaimed in a low voice, sliding into the back pew. That would make for a quick escape after the service.

Boromir had a _very_ good singing voice, she soon discovered as he quickly caught on to the words in the song and belted out the hymns with the best of them. Caitlin forgot all her worries basking in the rich sound of his voice.

But then Ted got up behind the pulpit and began to speak about purity and truth. From the way he looked at no notes and was focusing his eyes on the back of the church, she had a feeling that he had abandoned the original sermon in exchange for a personal lecture. The bad part was that everyone else seemed to realize it too.

He did not even wait for the last song to finish before all but sprinting down the aisle in order to catch her. She had seen him start to get up and had quickly shoved Boromir out of the pew. But alas! She was too slow.

"Caitlin? I need to talk to you," he murmured as he grabbed her arm and started to pull her to the basement stairs.

She tried to pull away, "You have my number."

Ted saw Boromir begin to mover towards him and he spoke quickly, "Just for a moment. _Alone_."

Caitlin sighed and nodded at Boromir before letting Ted drag her down the stairs. "What are you doing?" He exclaimed.

"He's a family friend who is staying with me," she supplied quickly, evading his eyes.

"You're lying," was the dry response, "You're an awful liar."

His grip on her arm tightened and he pulled her closer, faces nearly equal, "I don't trust him!" he spat into her face.

"Too bad!" she shot back. '"I'm not stupid. Nothing is going to happen! Don't worry!"

"I'm trying to look out for you," he whispered, grip on her arm still squeezing ever harder. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"You're hurting me right now," she replied as she tried to wiggle away. "Let go of me!"

Ted scowled and shook her, "You're not listening to me, Caitlin Clark!"

"We're not doing anything wrong," she whimpered, "Please let go!"

A disconcerted look came over his face as he was slowly lifted up and away from her; a strong tanned hand pulled his fingers back until he released her arm. "Maybe you didn't hear the lady," said a low and menacing voice, "She said 'let go'."

"Hi!" said Caitlin chipperly, grinning and waving at Boromir.

Boromir turned the shorter man to face him, "I don't know about your Florida, but where I come from, there are strict rules regarding a man's behavior toward women. Also, she is an adult and can take care of herself." He turned to look at Caitlin, "I'll meet you outside.

Her relieved expression disappeared quickly, "Uh, Bo? I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

He smiled at her, "I'm right behind you, _dear_." Obviously, he said that for Ted's benefit; after a long hesitation, Caitlin turned to climb back up the stairs and left to start the truck. As soon as her feet disappeared from the foot of the stairs, Boromir turned back to Ted. "If I _ever_ catch you manhandling her again—or if I even_ suspect_ it—I will kill you." He let go of Ted's wrist, patted him condescendingly on the cheek, and followed Caitlin.


	11. Rabid Fangirls and guys

**_A/N_**: I can't think of any good excuses for my long absence. Oh well, be imaginative and make some up for me!

**_Disclaimer:_** You already know the story. However, we are still undergoing negotiations so that LOTR belongs to me! Whoppee!

**Boromir**: Don't lie.

**Tari**: I'm not lying. Really I'm not!

**Boromir: **Tari……

**Tari: **Fine. I'm lying.

_**Reviews**_

_Aravis Silvertree_: Release the balrogs? No—you wouldn't! Wait—release the balrogs. Just let me have Boromir! I'll get my safe and lock him up…safely. Well who wouldn't be afraid of being a Mary-Sue? I mean, they're really such…terrifying creatures. Who'd want to be perfect all the time anyhow?

_Amber Chase_: Here it is. Hope you like this chapter!

_Jaffee Leeds_: Sigh…you make me drool talking about My Boromir like that…and he's mine. All mine. Tee-hee. Tee-hee.

_Mystical Full Moon Maiden_: Yes, Boromir was a tad bit possessive. But he's just trying to look out for Caitlin. (Despite what he says, he knows that she can't take care of herself). Sigh. I wish that Boromir was being that protective about me. He's just trying to make me stop being so touchie. I can't help it—I just want to give him hugs every time I see him! lol

_Achimedes-Factotum_: Very Smart Talking Owl skilled in lots of different things. I love it! Aaw, poor Huan. He can't help that he has a very delicate stomach. He's actually sort of based on my dog (I think I already said that, but oh well!). My dog will get sick at the slightest disruptance in his diet. Need I say that I am a very good carpet cleaner! lol

_Mizu-Magaru-Sensei_: I love your name! And thank-you!

_Fae Black_: Thank-you. Thank-you very much. Lol Yes, they can be sort of intimidating sometimes. Of course, it only gets worse for Caitlin because they used to be an item. Poor Caitlin! (Eh, forget it. I can't feel too much pity for the girl. She's got Boromir!)

**_A/N2:_** Well, here it is. Drumroll, please!

* * *

The two rode to Wal-Mart in silence. Boromir seemed not disturbed in the least by what had just transpired, but Caitlin's face was pale and she didn't look at him. She could just imagine the lawsuits. What had he done to Ted after she left? This week just kept getting worse by the minute.

As they stepped into the parking lost, she finally had to ask. "Boromir, what did you do to Ted?"

He turned an indignant look upon her, "What would make you think I did anything?"

"Oh, I don't know," she replied suggestively, "Maybe the smug look on your face?"

He sighed patiently, "If you _must_ know, I simply advised him not to be so possessive."

Caitlin threw her hands up in the air with exasperation, "Well you're a fine one to be talking! Exactly _what_ did you say?"

The way that Boromir looked at her told her quite plainly that he did not understand her concern, "Why do you insist on asking me that?"

"Because," she paused, realizing that in Gondor, they probably did not have a place to file assault charges, "Because he could go to the police—the law enforcement—and tell them that you assaulted him. That is why I need to know what you said."

"What sort of place_ is_ this?" he exclaimed incredulously, "That is ridiculous! In Gondor, if you feel insulted, you take it up directly with the one who insulted you—not go through backwards channels and complain to the—the Captain of the Guard!" he sputtered.

She shrugged, "Think what you will; but tell me! What did you say?"

He pretended to struggle to remember his exact words, although because of his uncanny ability to remember details, knew what he had said. Finally, "Something about if I caught him manhandling you again…"

"You didn't!" she exclaimed, horror shooting across her face, "You didn't—please tell me you didn't threaten to kill him," she pleaded, fingers crossed.

He nodded nonchalantly, "Yes, I did. Obviously no one ever taught him how to behave as a gentleman."

"Boromir!" she shouted, and then glanced guiltily about hoping that no one had heard her. A few people glanced at them before shrugging and walking faster. In a lower voice, she defended her ex-boyfriend rapidly, "He was only worried for me: he doesn't want to see me get hurt!"

"No." Boromir replied flatly, "He doesn't want to lose you to competition."

"Competi—" a light of understanding suddenly dawned on her. "Oh," she said slowly, "I see how it is."

Boromir turned a questioning face on her, "You see how what is?"

Grinning, Caitlin jabbed him in the ribs. "Huh? Uh-huh?" he gave her a look that reminded her of the way her father had told her without words that she was being ridiculous. "Confess!" she pressed, jabbing him a little harder.

Boromir frowned and looked away, lowering his arm so that she was forced to stop poking him, "Stop being foolish," he said shortly, lengthening his strides so that he could pass her.

Caitlin smirked at his back, "Ha!" she whispered, "You aren't getting away from me _that_ easily." She ran to keep pace with him, "You know, you're just like an open book. Seriously. All your emotions—right out there. For example, page one says—"

"Page one says shush," Boromir turned abruptly, causing Caitlin to trip and tumble towards the pavement only to be caught by his strong arms and pulled upright (insert long sigh). He put a finger on her lips and she practically melted, "So read the script, and shush."

She nodded contently in agreement, willing his finger and arms to stay right where they were. She could have killed him on the spot when he released her and continued walking, faintly blushing. Of course, had she killed him there would be no more Boromir, so she contented herself with walking as close to him as she possibly could. Who knew? Maybe she'd trip and he'd have to catch her again! Oh the possibilities…

"Caitlin?" she suddenly realized that she had been gazing vacantly at the big light-up L in the Wal-mart sign with her mouth open. Well that was humiliating. She slammed her mouth shut and smiled a closed-lips smile.

He shook his head and returned the smile briefly, then motioned gallantly for her to lead the way. Grinning, she sashayed in front of him and into the cool interior.

They were meandering through the aisle stocked with cleaning supplies, when Caitlin heard the sounds that she had been dreading. "Oh my God! Look! It's Sean Bean," someone whispered loudly.

She gripped his elbow and pulled him down the aisle. "Couldn't be. If he was coming to Florida, I'd know!"

Another voice jumped in, "Where?"

"There!" Boromir and Caitlin turned at the same time as many pairs of feet came clattering after them. About five teenaged girls were trotting towards the two, determined expressions on their faces.

"Run!" Caitlin squealed, grabbing Boromir's hand and running….somewhere. Anywhere. Just away from these insane girls!

The first thing she saw was a storage closet, open halfway miraculously. Daring to glance behind her, she saw that: 1) Their pursuers were gaining on them, 2) Their number was continually growing, and 3) There was a guy among them, clamoring Sean Bean's name loudest of all.

She turned back to Boromir; in unison they shouted, "In there!"

The poor janitor was shoved through the door to fend for himself, and the door was closed, locked, and bolted with a shelf that she threw in front of it.

Boromir was staring at the door with shock, the shouts from outside growing louder, and the door shuddering. "What…was…that?" he asked slowly.

She blinked and looked away from the door, "'That' was your worst nightmare. We like to refer to them as 'Rabid fan-girls…and guys."

"Interesting…" he replied slowly. "So…what does one do when locked in a…."

"Storage closet," she supplied, "For cleaning and miscellaneous objects."

"What do you do in one of these?" he asked innocently, although Caitlin could swear there was a hint of malicious and incredibly sexy humor in his voice.

She blushed and looked away, "I really couldn't tell you," she murmured, lying of course.

He nodded and moved away, brushing against her shoulder. She held her breath, and stayed very still, but was thinking _'Yes! Yes! Yes! He's flirting with me! Yes! .. .What do I do?'_

She smiled at him and fluttered her eyelashes. He smiled back, but did not move towards her. '_Stupid chivalry!'_

They sat not twelve inches apart for an hour, talking mostly about Faramir. Caitlin was bored to death during the entire conversation, but if her Boromir wanted to talk about his baby brother…okay. The door suddenly clicked open, and the janitor whom they had cast out among the wolves stood there, left eye bruised. Caitlin covered her mouth with her hands and looked guiltily at Boromir.

"Hi," she squeaked guiltily.

He frowned, "The least you could do is give me an autograph."

Boromir and Caitlin glanced at each other. An uncomfortable pause ensued before Boromir spoke, "Actually, I'm not Sean Bean. I understand that I must look very similar to him, but that must be entirely credited to Caitlin," he nodded and winked surreptitiously at her.

She found herself breathing easier, and jumped in, "We're part of a roleplaying group. Boris is playing the part of Boromir. We just ran to Wal-Mart to get a few supplies…for costumes."

The janitor sighed, but it was obvious that he did not believe them. "Well, could I still get an autograph? My niece would kill me if I didn't. Even if you aren't Sean Bean."

With no further ado, a pad of paper and a pen were handed to Boromir. He held the pen and stared at it. He fumbled with it, pretending to drop it, and bent over, trying to figure out the purpose of this. "He's a bit clumsy, sometimes," she said, dropping into a crouch.

Grabbing the pen, she pressed the tip to the paper, and handed it back to him, nodding, "There you go. It must have rolled under the cart."

He emerged a moment later, his name written in wobbly elvish runes. The janitor regarded it for a moment before shrugging. "You're really in character. Out." A thumb jerked towards the door. The two nodded and smiled simultaneously, pushing their way out.

"That was awkward," Caitlin whispered

"You have no idea."


	12. A Bad Day

**A/N**: I'm sorry this is so short, but that's life. Review and I may be persuaded to write a longer, quicker chapter!

**_Disclaimer:_** You know the drill. Although there is a new development in the negotiations: IT'S MINE! Whoo-hoo!

**Boromir:** Is not!

**Tari:** Shut up. glares

**Boromir:** OK

* * *

By evening, Caitlin was prepared to crawl up north where her parents lived and take refuge in their ancient chicken coop…or maybe on second thought, she should take cover in the tree house—Dad had vaguely mentioned something about a skunk in their last conversation. But the tree house was rotting. Well, Uncle Joe's cabin was always a viable option—it was still in one piece last time she checked—even though it was twice as far and in Canada.

The reason? Two words: Ted and Boromir. Ted (at least that was who she'd put her money on) had filed an assault charge. On Boris Dorowski. And there was no Boris Dorowski. And Boromir had been…unwilling to accompany the officers to the station. To say the least. At the moment, she was trying to convince Ted to drop the charges. So far her luck had been nonexistent. "Come on, Ted! He didn't mean anything! Where he's from they do things differently," if he only knew…

"And just where is Mr. Dorowski from?"

Fudge-bunnies. What was she supposed to say in response to that? Ted shook his head, "He threatened to kill me. _Kill_ me Caitlin!"

"So?" was her innocent, wide-eyed response.

He threw his hands into the air. "Caitlin!"

"Bo didn't mean it personally!" she hastened to defend him quickly, "Besides—if he really had wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already!"

She regretted that immediately; Ted's eyebrow's rose, "And you want me to drop the charges?" Caitlin smiled weakly, nodding. "I know that I'm going to regret this," he muttered, standing.

"Thank-you Ted!" She exclaimed and jumped to her feet, "You're the best!"

On one condition," he continued, holding out a hand and vaguely reminding her of her Dad, "You tell me the truth."

Caitlin's smile froze onto her face. "Right. The truth." She nodded, still smiling.

A long minute dragged by. Caitlin's head continued to nod slowly and her smile never wavered. Ted finally sighed and leaned forward, waving his hand in front of her eyes, "Earth to Caitlin…come in Caitlin. Do you copy?"

She laughed abruptly and glanced at him, "Okay, I've returned to planet Earth." They both laughed, Caitlin more heartily though, because Ted was no longer angry with her.

She started walking towards Old Rusty, "Does this mean you'll drop the charges?"

Ted cleared his throat. "Caitlin…" his voice hung heavy in the air, compelling her to tell him the truth. No! No, not the truth. Truth bad. No truth.

Before she began to speak, Caitlin ran through a mental checklist of well-known traits that gave her lies away. Eyes looking directly into his: Check. Hands _out_ of pockets: she put one on Old Rusty and the other held her keys—Check. Hand not _jiggling_ keys: check. Nostrils normal and not twitching: Check (yes, they twitched when she lied.) Breathing: Normal. Okay, now she was ready.

"I've never met him before," now the easy part was over, "But he's an amnesiac…" she reached up to rub her nose in an attempt to disguise the twitching, "He doesn't remember anything before Ivan."

Ted's eyebrows were rising steadily. Perfect—something was giving her away. _RAT-A-TAT-TAT_. Fingers were promptly pried away from Old Rusty. "HE thinks that his name was Boris, but either than that…"

A long—very long—silence stretched over them. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. But only under one condition: He gets his own living quarters. That means he moves out."

She exhaled with relief, "Thank-you Ted! Thank-you! You're the best.."

"I know," he grinned as she slapped his arm.

Boromir appeared very ruffled as he stiffly left the station at Caitlin's side. His back was stiff and his head held high, movements brisk and carefully measured to convey the deepest sense of disapproval. "Ridiculous place," he muttered the instant that the truck doors closed behind them.

She shook her head and glowered at him, "Do you realize what I went through to save your sorry _arse_? I had to _BEG_ Ted. Beg him!" She whipped out of the parking lot, purposely driving over the curb and jarring Boromir. "I've never been more humiliated in my life!"

"_You _haven't? What of me, pray tell? To be shackled and interrogated like some common criminal?"

Caitlin squealed to a stop barely behind a big van. "You brought it upon yourself." He sniffed and she his a smile.

"So now what's the plan?"

He glanced sideways at her, "We return to your home, no?"

She scoffed, "_I_ do. You have to find a new home." He made no response, but a frown. "And before that—a job."

"Like…an occupation? Where? What skills do I have in your world? I'm a shoulder, not a craftsman!"

Caitlin nodded, "Too true. You are useless." He looked sourly at her and she shrugged. After all, it was not actually _her_ fault she was blunt!

Huan could be heard yipping wildly all the way from the street two stories below the apartment. Caitlin peered up towards her window, keen eyes catching an occasional flash of brown leaping up and down. "What is that idiot doing now?" Caitlin growled. Huan drove her crazy. Absolutely insane.

Huan's panicked yips grew louder as the two climbed the stairs and finally opened the door. He greeted Caitlin with a whimper, scuttling across the floor on his side, propelled only by his hind feet, and licked her toes before running across the floor and leaping anxiously at the answering machine.

Dumb dog.

"Boromir, do me a favor and hit the green button," she called, turning to hang up her coat and lock the door. She winced as a loud think preceded the computerized male voice. "Sunday, September 11, 2004: you have one new message. 3:37 PM." The computerized voice stopped talking and there was a long pause before a trembling voice began to speak. "Caitlin? It's…it's Isabel…um," Caitlin wheeled on the machine. Isabel? "Um, I just got a call…from the hospital. Uh, Caitlin? Mom and Dad are dead."

A loud buzzing filled Caitlin's ears and she fell backwards, hitting her head on the doorknob. Fuzzily she thought that it would be more appropriate if she was unconscious at the moment. Isabel's voice continued to waver through her ears, but she could not understand anything. Boromir's face appeared over her and he spoke quietly in words she could not hear.

* * *

OOOH! Cliffie…lol. Well, review and we'll see what we can do. Speaking of reviews…

Reviewer Responses:

Yellow Peanutbutter Ruler: Weird is excellent! Let's hear them:D

Fae Black: Yay! Le franςais! Well, here's your update. Sorry, no can do "faster." What can I say? I'm a terrible person.

Aravis Silvertree: No! Give him back! He's mine! And I don't share. That's right, good Balrogs. Good…boys?

Archimedes-Factotum: Well, here's another long absence. Maybe it'll get even funnier?

Bob1234567890: Here's another Boromir Fix for you! hands over chapter, wrapped with a pretty bow on top. (PINK bow, in case you were interested.)

HotShot14: That's absolutely right. Those fan-girls are DANGEROUS!

Nimthiriel: Fear not. You would not be alone in your rabid-fangirl plight. I shall join you. Ahem. Anyways. Forget I said that. Me? Rabid? Yah right. You're seeing things!

And a very special thank-you to my wonderful sister, Lu (who has currently commandeered control of a certain keypad and is making sure she makes the credits.) Without you're constant nagging, this chapter would probably still be ten years in the coming. (There's nothing like typing a nice thank-you to yourself folks, I'm telling you! I should steal this keyboard more often. Heh-heh)


	13. More Bad News

**_Reviews_**: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It passed even my wildest expectations! Do you want me to respond to your reviews or not, seeing how it is now apparently impermissible to respond to reviews on this page? Have a great New Year!

* * *

"Surprise!"

Caitlin looked around the room, puffy red eyes blinking rapidly. Then her spasming eyes caught sight of Isabel, struggling to hide a smug smirk. Her eyes narrowed and she lunged forward, "Isabel I'm going to KILL you!"

* * *

Two Days Earlier

A fountain of tears spewed from Caitlin's eyes as she listened once again to Isabel's message. Boromir wordlessly handed her another tissue and reached down to pick up and throw away the soggy tissue she had dropped on the floor.

Huan jumped onto the couch and pushed Boromir away as he struggled to climb over the two in order to sit on Caitlin's face and comfort her. His stubby tail smacked her in the eye, starting another burst of tears afresh. Boromir handed her the last Kleenex and got up to grab the last box in the house. She'd already gone through two. How much one person could cry was beyond him.

When he returned, she biting her nails and the tears had been wiped away. "Give me the phone," she ordered in a quavering voice. He shrugged and after some tugging, discovered how to pull the phone out of its hook.

She dialed with determined fingers hitting the buttons emphatically, then sat and waited. Finally, she started talking into it, and Boromir jumped. They actually talked to those white figures? "Isabel?" She paused, "Yeah, it's me…what happened…uh-uh…is Butch okay?…uh-huh," she looked mournfully at Boromir, "Yeah…yeah I understand…I'll be there…uh-huh…what?" she shrieked into the phone. Boromir winced and Huan jumped off the couch and retreated into her bedroom. "Isabel—you're older…I don't care! I can't—no!" she yanked the phone away from her face and punched another button, instantly re-dissolving into tears.

"So is Isabel your sister?"

She nodded miserably, "Unfortunately. Little…b—witch." Boromir raised an eyebrow but wisely said nothing. "I hate her. She doesn't think about anyone but herself. It's always 'me, me, me!'" Boromir still said nothing, instead getting another tissue ready. She'd need it soon. "My best friend, Mikayla, was engaged, right. The day of the wedding, Isabel and that freak ran off. She left poor Mikayla standing up at the altar, waiting for the idiot who never showed up! I mean, how tactless can you b-b-be!" she reached for the tissue and recommenced sobbing.

Huan peered around the corner, his tail twitching nervously, seeming to be asking if it was once again safe to enter the room. Boromir nodded to him and reached for the tissue.

"What were you yelling at her for?" he asked after the sobs had subsided somewhat and it was safe to speak again.

"She's older," Caitlin whined, "Why do I have to do everything?" Huan whined and tried to lick her face; "Dog…" she growled and then gagged as the Chihuahua found a place where he had not yet slobbered—her mouth. "That's gross," she pushed him away and wiped her mouth.

"My little brother Butch," she nodded at the pictures on the television, "She says I have to take care of him now.

Boromir looked at the picture of a chubby, red-haired little boy, "He looks like a handful."

"Not him," she nodded at the picture beside it, "_That's _him." He was lanky, with dull brown hair, a long and pinched face, and piercing eyes shielded by large ground eyes which covered most of his pale face. Quietly, Boromir studied the picture, "Charming."

"He doesn't say hardly a bloody word and when he does, no one can understand him!" She frowned, "I'm…oh my God! Dad and Mom are dead!" she groped for another tissue and Boromir gave her a comforting hug. At least he would have had Huan not snarled at him and pushed him away. If it had been anyone else's dog, he would have merely sent it flying across the room, but Caitlin would likely take that badly.

"Isabel…says…she's…too busy!" Caitlin wailed.

* * *

The afternoon progressed much in the same manner. Boromir eventually reverted to a roll of toilet paper and Huan continued being overly protective of his weeping mistress.

At Caitlin's request, Boromir found the quart of fudge ice-cream and brought it back to her with a spoon. She ate it slowly and mechanically while staring straight ahead. Finally, as the sun disappeared and the room grew dark, she reached for the phone and dialed Lacey's number. It rang five times before Lacey picked up. "Not a good time, Cait," was the first thing she said. In the background, Caitlin heard screaming and loud crashes—Lacey must have been babysitting her cousins (they were animals!)

"Sorry," Caitlin muttered, "I can't work this week."

Lacey laughed for a long minute. "Wait. Are you serious?"

Caitlin didn't answer her and after a moment Boromir took the phone gently from her numb fingers and replaced it with a wad of toilet paper. "Caitlin's parents passed just passed away," he murmured quietly into the phone, the words triggering another spurt of tears from Caitlin, "She needs to go to her family."

"Oh my God!" Lacey shrieked and Boromir pulled the offending phone away from his ear. "Let me talk to her!"

Boromir handed the phone back to Caitlin, who willingly accepted it and promptly began to bawl into the mouthpiece.

The conversation continued for half an hour, Caitlin howling unintelligible words into the mouthpiece and Lacey attempting to soothe her friend over the phone. Towards the end of the conversation, Caitlin's words became more distinguishable and by the time she hung up the phone she was only hiccupping and no longer in tears.

Caitlin stared disconsolately at the now melted ice cream and swished it around. It slopped against the sides of its container in a thick mess and she made a face, handing it to Boromir. "Thanks," he said slowly, getting up to dump it in the sink.

She sniffed and tried to stand up. Her legs promptly crumbled under her and she collapsed on the floor. Huan, ever the concerned pet, scurried to her side and began licking her face. "Ow." She gingerly rubbed her legs, wincing as feeling returned slowly with millions of tiny pinpricks.

Boromir stepped around the couch and reached a hand out to help pull her back up. Huan had different ideas, however, and lunged at Boromir, fangs bared. Boromir had had enough of this insolent pup. Snarls suddenly turned to whimpers and Huan writhed in Boromir's grip as the man held him six feet over the floor and glowered at him. The nub of a tail dipped downwards as if trying to tuck between his legs and stubby legs pawed at the air. "Be nice." Huan whimpered and made a move as though to lick Boromir's face, however his tongue fell several feet short.

He lowered the dog unceremoniously to the floor and Huan promptly ran into the bedroom and hid under the bed, whimpering. Huan out of the way, Boromir helped Caitlin onto her feet, holding her close to him for a little longer than may have been necessary. Finally, with an awkward pat on the shoulder, he turned away and walked away. There was not far to go in the small apartment. Caitlin limped into the bedroom and soon thereafter, the closet door and dresser drawers began to bang unceremoniously as she started packing.

Boromir searched the cupboard for food that looked imperishable. Everything looked basically the same in bags—plastic, Caitlin had called them—or in plastic bottles. He settled on what looked faintly like a loaf of bread, the two cans depicting soup, and a nearly empty bag of Caitlin's licorice. Caitlin emerged from the bedroom at about the same time he had set the four items on the counter and without a word walked to his side and pulled out several more plastic containers.

As she put the food in brown bags, he found his clothing from home as well as his sword and shield. The golden belt was hastily clasped around his waist and the dagger and sword were clamped onto it. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling ten times more secure already with his weapons back in their rightful positions. While he was bagging his clothing (in plastic bags, just for trivial purposes) Caitlin began to mechanically carry the food out the door and downstairs. Huan attempted to follow her, but all Boromir needed to do to deter him was narrow his eyes and lift one corner of his lips. Huan scurried back to his post under the bed.

Boromir was about to take his and Caitlin's clothing out to the car when he suddenly felt a pain in his chest, as though someone had plunged a knife into his heart. He dropped the bags and staggered to the wall, where he grasped the counter for support. The pain lasted for ten seconds before fading. He leaned against the counter, gasping, and just when he thought that the pangs would not return, they did, tenfold. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he attempted not to cry out. The handle on the door started to turn slowly and he swallowed the nauseous feeling away. Caitlin had enough to worry about without an ill and wounded man. It would pass.

Breath still coming in short gasps, he bent and lifted the bags just as Caitlin stepped in. "That's everything," he said through clenched teeth. Caitlin nodded vacantly and clapped her hands twice. Huan ran to her and leaped into outstretched arms, cowering against her chest as he caught sight of Boromir. If Caitlin noticed Boromir's stiff movements or shortness of breath, she said nothing.


	14. Roadtrip: Part One

**_A/N_**: Hello all! I have replied to everyone who logged in. And in response to the many questions about the beginning of the previous chapter, just try to think about what you know of Isabel and why Caitlin might be chasing her around threatening her. Use your intuitive powers. I'm not really one to be talking about intuitive powers but… whatever. Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Huan made it about ten miles. But the poor puppy simply could not hang on for another mile, and before anyone could do anything, Boromir's arm was sporting a wet patch. Boromir closed his eyes and said nothing, but his lips were moving silently as Huan scurried across his knees onto Caitlin's lap. "What?" Caitlin had not been watching the guys, fortunately for Huan and unfortunately for Boromir.

A giggle almost snuck past her lips as Boromir pulled the soggy sleeve away from his muscular arm. Huan tried to wag his tail and wound up smacking his butt against the steering wheel instead. All the occupants of Old Rusty winced as the horn wheezed loudly and as the little girl who had been riding her bike on the side of the road jumped, screamed, and spun out on the gravel.

An indignant face turned and pressed against the rear window of the miniscule red car in front of them. Caitlin was following it close enough to see first a tongue 'tasting' the window followed closely by the one-fingered salute. "Good grief!" Caitlin exclaimed, sticking her tongue out in return.

The eyes on the face opened wide, blinked twice, and then the face turned quickly around. "Did that child just stick her tongue out at you?" Boromir asked, finally settling on peeling the shirt off him.

"And she flipped me off."

Boromir stuffed the shirt on the floor, grimacing at the odor. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Oh yeah. She's what, six?"

"I'd guess her to be closer to thirteen."

"Whatever." She pushed Huan onto the seat between the two, "Oh right. The finger. It's the middle finger and it's a crude, rude, ugly remark."

She demonstrated in her lap. "My suggestion is don't do it in a large crowd of people—especially not in Chicago—unless you want to end up dead. Again."

He sighed, "The equivalent, I suppose, of the V."

It was Caitlin's turn to be educated. She looked over at him and he held up his index and middle finger in the peace symbol and turned them so that the back of his hand was facing her. "This is what we do in Gondor."

She laughed, bit her lip, and blushed. Her parents were dead, was she supposed to be laughing? She didn't think so. "What sort of reception does that get?"

He smiled, "Technically, dueling is banned by law." Caitlin ventured a small smile in return.

"Here that means peace." She turned her eyes back on the road but found after a few seconds her eyes were drifting to the side and peeking at Boromir. He was so hot. Perhaps Huan had been naughty to pee on Boromir's shirt, but she mentally blessed the dog for giving Boromir a reason to go shirtless. Small blessings…

He glanced over at her just as Caitlin tore her gaze away from his strong, golden muscles. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "Am I bothering you?"

Caitlin smiled. _Brilliant_ she scolded herself. The lopsided grin she wore could not have looked more clueless. "No." _Really Brilliant_.

She tried to pay more attention to the road (and to the six/thirteen year old in the car in front of her, who continued to occasionally turn around and show Caitlin how much her tongue and middle finger cared. But the little girl in the little window of the little red car was much less interesting than the gorgeous man sitting next to her. She stole another look at him, turning her head just as he noticed her stare. Her head stopped midturn, swiveling back to inspect Boromir a little more closely. "Are you okay?"

He glanced at her, "I'm fine."

Frowning, Caitlin peered more closely at him, wondering at the beads of sweat gathering on his face"You're sweating." He shrugged and nodded, turning to look out the window, a tactic Caitlin recognized from her dad. She bit her lip, eyes welling with tears at the thought of her gruff but lovable and now dead dad, "I'll turn on the air conditioning," she choked and flipped the switch to sixty.

Ten minutes later, Boromir was not sweating any longer. Unfortunately, he had instead donned a rumpled blanket that had been stuffed in the glove-box for approximately three years and was now sleeping fitfully. Caitlin was freezing and Huan had temporarily overcome his dislike of Boromir and was huddled beneath his strong arm. Goosebumps were appearing on her arms and she kept shivering. Why was it so cold? It shouldn't be this cold yet! She decided to stop at the gas station and get a coffee. That should warm her up—and she was hungry. She'd get some pretzels, too.

Boromir did not wake even when she pulled into the poorly-paved, pitted gas station and parked. She turned Old Rusty off and hurried into the building. The smell of stale chips and sweat swept out to meet her in a gust of super-chilled air. She shivered and hurried to poor a big cup of coffee and grabbed a bag of pretzels. On second thought, she also got water for Boromir.

It wasn't until she got back in the truck and turned on the ignition that she realized why she as so cold. The air condition was on as high as it could go. Groaning, she turned it off, rolled down the window, and sped down the highway drinking a twenty-four ounce caffeine-laden coffee.

When Boromir woke up, the pretzels were nearly gone and Caitlin had drunk all his water and her coffee. She was squirming uneasily on her seat, a painful look on her face. He watched her fidgeting for a few minutes before asking with a knowing smile if she was all right. Caitlin shook her head and bit her lip, "I've gotta go!" she whined.

Boromir chortled and settled back. "So why don't you?"

Caitlin looked at him, shocked. "What?"

He laughed at her, shoulders shaking. Huan barked at him, hair on the back of his neck standing up. Boromir winced suddenly and stopped laughing. "You okay?" Caitlin wiggled on the seat and tried to cross her legs.

He nodded, "Fine."

"How's your chest?"

"It's fine."

Caitlin would have argued with him except that she finally caught sight of a long-awaited gas station and stepped on the accelerator. She needed that bathroom!

Caitlin left Old Rusty running and leapt out of the seat, running through the doors. Boromir was smart. He'd be able to take care of the truck. She had more important things to worry about. "No!" she wailed. The Out of Order sign posted on the ladies' room smirked and laughed at her. She shuddered and looked at the door next to it. Then she looked back at the counter. The attendant had her feet up and was listening to music on her headphones that Caitlin could hear from where she was, and was painting her fingernails. In other words, she wasn't paying attention. Caitlin threw the door open without another second of hesitation.

A large, bearded old man turning away from the urinal was the only occupant of the room. "'Scuse me," she yelled, brushing past him and practically throwing herself into the stall. The last thing she saw before closing the door was the old man rubbing his eyes and staring at the stall door.

Caitlin exited five minutes later, feeling foolish—foolish but happy. The gas station attendant had not moved from her watchful post and was still bobbing her head to the music. Boromir was waiting impatiently for her at the door, holding the keys in one hand and Huan in the other. She grinned at him. "Hey Bo."

He grunted and handed the squirming, hairless bundle to her. Huan licked her chin and she grimaced, pulling away, "Manners, mutt," she reminded him.

Caitlin was thirsty again so she got a six pack of sixteen ounce waters. Boromir followed her, holding the items she piled on him. A pack of gum, a bag of licorice, another bag of pretzels, the water, a box of Cheezits, and a bag of treats for Huan. She finally returned to the counter and motioned that Boromir should set everything down. The attendant did not heed them. "Excuse me," Caitlin called. No response. "I'm ready." Still no response. "Look, I'm going to take all this stuff and walk away without paying. The girl held up her fingers and blew on them.

Huan barked and she looked up, a bored look on her face. "You do know you're not supposed to have dogs in here."

Caitlin motioned to her ears and mouthed 'down.' The attendant looked confused for a minute then pulled her headphones off. "What?"

Caitlin sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry to bother you, because I know that your nails and ACDC are really important, but is there any way that we could just pay for this and go?"

"Hey, how did you know who I was listening too?" What an idiot. The CD case was sitting right in front of her.

"I'm psychic. Now, can we get moving?" The girl shrugged and her face returned to its apathetic expression as she languidly ran each item up. "Twenty-five thirty-one…Out of thirty. Here's your change. She gave her a five in return. Rolling her eyes, Caitlin dug into her pocket and threw a quarter and a dime on the counter, grabbed the bags and left.


	15. Roadtrip: Part Two

**_A/N_**: Could I get a drumroll please? Drumroll? Anyone? Okay, never mind—I'll do it myself! pat-a-pat-pat-tat-tat It's up! I have UPDATED! I don't suppose anyone thought that this day would ever come. Sorry this chapter is sort of short: I figured better shorter and sooner that longer and later!

**_A/N2_**: (Luthien) I tried folks. I really tried. Let me just say that Tari does not like being urged to write. I think she finally got tired of me reminding her, though. Asta!

**_Disclaimer_**: Look at what I found yesterday: "I, John Ronald Reul Tolkien hereby grant Tàri Oronar of the **great** Luthien and Tàri Oronar the great character of Boromir Stewardsson." Oh yes it's real! Lawyer pokes Tàri in the side Fine, maybe it's a little…less than…real. Oh whatever! Just read it:D

* * *

"Boromir?" Caitlin glanced out of the corner of her eye to the sleeping figure beside her. "Boromir?" He made no response other than to shift positions and turn away from her. It was quarter to three in the morning, and Caitlin had decided to keep driving through the night rather than stop at one of the seedy motels lining the interstate. She wished now that she had. Boromir had stayed awake till about twenty minutes ago, but apparently he was still exhausted. Caitlin didn't know why, since according to her figuring he had been sleeping for a very long time—since Amon Hen, in fact—but who was she to figure the workings of his mind. Whether he was tired or not, though, he needed to wake up. "Boromir?"

He stirred and for a moment, she thought he would wake up, but instead he turned again so that all she could see was the back of his head. The truck lurched and Huan, ever the faithful coward, yipped. A sick feeling stirred in Caitlin's stomach as Old Rusty lurched forward again. And again. Something started sputtering and clanking and the whole truck began to quiver.

"Boromir!" He jumped up, all vestiges of sleep gone.

"What happened?" he asked, turning towards her.

She whimpered, stammered, shrieked, and pointed at her dashboard where all the needles were going crazy, spinning in erratic semicircles. The truck kept accelerating rapidly and then the engine braked only to accelerate again. The whole framework was shuddering and shivering. "Get off the road," Boromir said calmly.

"Right. No problem." She giggled hysterically. It really wasn't funny, she reprimanded herself, giggling again. "Does dying hurt?" she snorted with laughter and Boromir glanced at her and discreetly scooted a little closer to the door.

She got in the right lane, nearly rear-ending the semi in front of her, and then causing an accident as the vehicle behind her had to suddenly brake to keep from meeting Old Rusty's fender up close and personal, but was instead rear-ended by the car behind it. And then they almost went airborne as Rusty decided to accelerate in the middle of the bending off-ramp. They would have if Boromir hadn't suddenly reached over and shifted the truck into neutral. And she'd thought he was sleeping during her tutorial. She had been half-asleep.

Huan was on the floor between Boromir's feet, cowering and clamoring for his life as the truck skidded to a stop just inches from sliding out into the side of a camper. Even Huan stopped whimpering for a moment as the truck shuddered one final time and then was still. Wearing a solemn face, Caitlin crossed herself, "May you rest in peace," she solemnly intoned.

* * *

Caitlin sat cross-legged on the cement sidewalk in front of the truck, pulling on her cell-phone and muttering furiously at it. Boromir was watching Huan wander across the patch of pale grass and occasionally glancing at Caitlin. A single lamppost illuminated the intersection, and beyond the small circle of light, everything was dark. In the east, he thought that he could see the first fingers of sunlight poking over the horizon, but it would be hours before it was light enough to see, and the darkness seemed only to lend to Caitlin's ill humor. He winced and ducked as a scream of rage closely preceded a flying pink blob. When, after a few seconds, he had not been attacked by any other weapons of modern technology, he stood and glanced at Caitlin.

"The battery! The (censored) battery died!" she shrieked, "And we are in the middle of Hicktown USA!" She gestured emphatically to the closed gas station that they had pushed Old Rusty to in a perilous journey, fraught with danger and daring deeds. Caitlin had almost been killed by a semi that appeared out of nowhere and hurtled down the road with an expression of manic glee on its square features. Then, just as she was about to call Isabel, the cell-phones batteries had died. A growling and rattling elicited another shriek from Caitlin. "No!"

Boromir turned just in time to see Huan give the pink phone a final shake. Then it was gone. Boromir looked from the immensely-pleased-looking Huan to a horrified Caitlin and back again. "Did he just…"

Caitlin hurried to the dog's side and pried his tiny jaws open. "Is that even possible?" Huan wriggled away and dropped to his haunches, whapping his miniscule tail on the ground and giving the canine equivalent of a grin. A very confused look suddenly crossed Huan's face and he wriggled anxiously, trying to peer at his stomach. He then began to ring. "Now that's got to be impossible!"

The ringing continued for a long, very awkward minute, and then was silent. The small dog gazed at the two humans with a pitiful expression and whimpered. Caitlin looked to be on the verge of tears when Boromir snorted loudly and she glared at him accusatively, "It's really not that funny," she pouted and he struggled to maintain a straight face at her disgruntled tones.

Huan had no sooner seemed to reconcile himself to the fact that his stomach had been vibrating and ringing no more than three minutes ago, when he began to vibrate again. Looking very disconcerted, the Chihuahua jumped to his feet and began to run around Boromir and Caitlin's legs, panicked squeals filling the air. Once again, the episode ended as quickly as it had started and Huan slowly calmed down slowly. "Did you not say that the phone was broken?" Boromir asked, turning his head quizzically, eyes sparkling humorously.

Caitlin shrugged and scooped Huan into her arms, grumbling under her breath as her oversized purse dropped from her shoulder to her elbow. "Is the truck locked? We're walking." There's got to be a phone somewhere around here. Even if we are in the middle of nowhere."

They ran across the road as soon as a break came in the traffic. Caitlin tripped on her flip flops and very nearly became a pancake—a very large pancake—but Boromir grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the road just in time. With every step she took north, Caitlin was growing ever angrier. When the phone in Huan's stomach began vibrating and ringing again, she nearly exploded. "Stop ringing!"

To anyone who may have been watching the trio march across the fields, the sight must have been an odd one. A woman was holding a small dog high above her head and screaming at its midsection as it squirmed in her hands and the tall, sturdy man at her side was shaking from ill-concealed laughter. She slapped his shoulder once again, scowling at him, "It's not funny." They paused, looked solemnly at one another, and she suddenly giggled. "My dog ate my cell phone!"

The absurdity of it all hit Caitlin with a heavy blow. A supposedly fictional—and dead, no less—character from a fantasy book was living with her, her parents were dead, she was trying to go see Isabel of all people, the truck had almost killed her, and her dog had just eaten her cell phone. "This has to be the worst day of my life!" she chortled, tears of laughter running down her face and her cheeks fit to split from grinning so much.

Huan and Boromir glanced at each other, each heaving a sigh. The day had come: Caitlin had finally lost her sanity. Or, at least, the little sanity she had had to begin with.


	16. A Phone and a Field

**_A/N_**: Sorry about having uploaded the ending of the previous chapter as the beginning of this one. Thanks to Bitten by a Cow for pointing that out!

"Illinois," Caitlin wheezed, "Is a really long state: really long." Boromir nodded patiently and trekked stubbornly through the long grass, pulling Huan behind him on a long, pink leash. After two hours of stumbling through flatlands and whining every step of the way, Caitlin was exhausted and crabby. She now berated herself for cutting across fields and not staying on the highway. Her feet hurt, her legs hurt, her head hurt, and the state of her clothing was nothing les than painful to see.

Huan pulled on the leash and yipped. Mercifully, the phone had stopped ringing and acting out, but it seemed to be causing a few problems as his digestive system tried to move it through his body. Caitlin plopped onto a spot of ground that looked mostly dry. It wasn't, of course dry, and she made a face as cold, muddy water bubbled around her. "We'll never make it!"

Hardly glancing at her, Boromir grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. "If we continue to stop and wail every quarter of the hour, then you are correct: we shan't." Caitlin glared balefully at him, her mood to foul to even let her enjoy Boromir's touch.

"Don't need to yell," she muttered. Really: the man could give her a break! After all, her parents had just died, her truck had tried to kill her, and her cell phone was busy being digested by her dog. Caitlin's eyes grew wide and she stopped suddenly, mouth dropping open. Finally, she began to slap her forehead and wailed, "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"

Boromir glanced at her, his lips pressed tightly together, but offered her no consolation. It seemed that he had no desire to bow to her whims any longer. When it became obvious that Caitlin had no intention to stop slapping her forehead or loudly berating herself, he snapped sharply at her. "What is it _this_ time?"

Her hand stopped halfway to the quickly reddening skin on her forehead. "Ow."

"Indeed," he sighed impatiently, "It will never cease to amaze me how very observant you really are."

If looks could kill, Boromir would have dropped dead on the spot…again. "You know what? You're just mean!"

"Lady Caitlin," he growled warningly. Huan took offense to his tone and pulled on the leash, yipping loudly. Boromir returned the pull, Huan copied the gesture, and a spirited game of tug-rope began. Huan had the obvious disadvantage, but he put up a loud and valiant fight. Nonetheless, the muddy dog was eventually dragged, stiff-legged, past Caitlin who, despite herself, was laughing. Boromir continued to glare at her for a moment, but even he could not hold out long, and he began to chuckle. Huan saw his opportunity and gave the leash a fearsome pull. It slipped through Boromir's fingers and Huan stopped to look at the leash for a brief minute. Then he wagged his tail (or, more accurately, his butt), barked, and took to his heels. "Huan!" Caitlin shrieked the dog's name and jumped to her feet, which slipped in the mud and wet grass and threw her face-first to the ground. Craning her neck, she peered up at Boromir: his face told her plainly that he had no intention in pursuing the "rat." Yes, astonishingly enough, she had heard him making comparisons between her beloved pet and the beastly rodents! "What are you waiting for? He's a helpless, darling little puppy—he's going to hurt himself!" she wailed.

Boromir rolled his eyes and turned away, shaking is head. Apparently, he was of the very mistaken notion that the world was a better place with one less Huan. As he sprinted after the little mud ball darting towards the horizon, Caitlin struggled to her feet and glared at the mud that had smeared her front and had hopelessly stained her clothes. "I hate Illinois," she growled.

A high-pitched squealing caught her ear as she inspected her legs and she turned just in time to step away from the Boromir-Huan mass that hurdled by her. Huan was the source of the squeals, just to clear everything up. Boromir skidded to a stop a few feet beyond her and backpedaled rapidly. "I know not what evil creatures inhabit your world," he exclaimed, "But I would hold a legion of orcs to be more welcoming!"

She cocked her head, trying to figure what—in Illinois of all places—could be more frightening than a bunch of orcs. "What are you talking about?" He pointed, panting, towards the eastern horizon, where, framed by the sun and climbing what was likely the only hill in all of Illinois, was a tractor. (Beyond that, she could identify it no further.) "We're saved."


	17. Normal Illinois

**_Disclaimer_**: Do I look like Tolkien? (And if you said yes, I'm going to have to hunt you down and…do something very mean which I have not yet thought of. So don't say yes, because then I'd have to think, and that's never pretty!)

**_A/N_**: I'm feeling nice! Enjoy!

**_A/N2_**: By the way—I've crossed the 100 review mark! I love y'all!

* * *

Caitlin wriggled her feet experimentally and then blinked, surprised to feel the cold metal that brushed across her toes. She tried to peer over her knees to take inventory of the clutter at her feet, but could not move enough to see. Her feet were about the only part of her body that retained mobility, for on her left sat a rather rank and grizzled old farmer and on her right, Boromir. It was a tractor cab built for one person and his lunch, so quarters were cramped, to say the least. Boromir was peering suspiciously at the farmer—Roy—and the machinery around him.

Caitlin was unsure whom she pitied more: Boromir, Huan, or Roy. Roy had been, upon seeing the three bedraggled trespassers, first astonished, then furious, and finally bewildered. After Caitlin explained that her truck had severely malfunctioned, he was more than happy to drive them to the nearest town: The nearest town with a vet, at least. Huan seemed fine for the moment, perfectly content to be marching steadfastly back and forth across their laps, but every now and again, he would start whining and glaring at Caitlin. She glared back. It wasn't as though she had asked him to eat her phone.

"Florida," Boromir said.

"Huh?" Caitlin jumped out of her reverie and glanced over at Boromir, who was smiling in an irritating manner. Briefly, she wondered how she had ever thought it would be wonderful to live with Boromir: he could be such a _man_ sometimes!

"Sir Roy asked where we hailed from," he responded innocently. She winced, wondering if he realized how funny he sounded.

Roy certainly realized how funny he sounded, and the tractor cab rocked as the farmer guffawed loudly. Boromir glanced at Caitlin and she shrugged, not much happier than he was to be stuck with the rotund old man. "Just Roy, son," he bellowed.

Sniggering, Caitlin spoke up, "Just outside of Pensacola. Right on the beach."

"Oh sure, with that hurricane!" Roy shouted again, with a certain malicious glee in his voice. She glared at him as he continued, "Serves people right for living on the beach."

Caitlin shot a glare at Boromir, daring him to laugh, and he leaned back, smoothing his face back to an impassive mask. "Every region has its dangers," she replied sweetly.

The cab suddenly dropped to the right, hurtling Caitlin towards Boromir, and, unfortunately, Roy towards Caitlin. Cussing, Roy turned the wheel and Caitlin popped back into the middle. She actually sort of regretted equilibrium being fixed, because it had really been rather cozy with her face buried in Boromir's chest. He smelled good: a mix of sweat, grass, and something else she couldn't put her finger on. If Roy hadn't been in the picture, she would not have actually minded staying like that for a while. "Need to get that rut fixed," Roy boomed apologetically.

If he did not stop shouting every single word he said, she was going to strangle him with his beard! Rather than do that though, she turned to look at Boromir. "Are you okay?" she asked him quietly, staring at the sweat that had popped onto his brow and the greenish tint to his face.

"Need some air?" Caitlin glared at the farmer. Roy seemed not to notice the peeved look on her face as he released the wheel and leaned across all three of his passengers to open Boromir's window. By the time he finished, Caitlin's face was about as green as Boromir's, and she felt fit to vomit. Whispering, she asked Boromir if they didn't know about deodorant—or baths—in Illinois.

The window open, they were soon buffeted with wind, and lots of dust. Boromir's face returned to its natural color and he murmured quietly that he was fine. Roy seemed satisfied and started to reach over to close the window again. "Stop!" Caitlin's hand had shot up, nearly hitting Huan in the face as he started to cross her lap, and holding the farmer back just as he leaned over her. Smiling sweetly, she hissed, "I'll get it." With an injured air, Roy returned to his seat, and no more conversation was attempted until they arrived at a neat two-story house.

"The missus will take you in. I've got to get back to work," he muttered (loudly.)

Now feeling a little bad about being rude to him when he was only trying to help, Caitlin awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks for your help! We'd have probably been there for days if you hadn't come along."

Boromir reached over Caitlin and took Roy's hand, shaking it firmly. "We are indebted to you," he added, smiling broadly. The gracious gratitude that flavored Boromir's warm eyes nearly melted Caitlin, and she remembered why she had wanted the man to be real.

A middle-aged woman had walked up to the tractor and pulled the door open. The couple conversed for a few minutes, and then the woman grinned at Boromir and Caitlin. "The name's Lee," she introduced herself, "I can take you to Normal."

Caitlin blinked. Then she smiled. "Okay…"

Lee chuckled uproariously, her whole body shaking from her laughs. "It's a city!"

"Of course!" Caitlin grinned sheepishly, feeling stupid. Who named a city 'Normal?'

* * *

Normal was half-an-hour away, although if a normal person had been driving to Normal, an hour should have been added on to that time. If Boromir had looked a little green while in the tractor, he was definitely a ripe shade of jade now, and Caitlin had joined him again. From the moment Lee had pulled a drag-racing stunt from her front-porch to the end of the driveway, Caitlin had remembered the field with fondness. The fact that they were blowing stop-signs and going about twice the speed limit, however, seemed minute when coupled with maniacal expression of sheer joy on Lee's face. The faster her jeep was going, the more she seemed to enjoy driving. Her arms were tensed, and she leaned eagerly over the steering-wheel. Occasionally, one of her hands would drift from the wheel to turn up the volume of the radio or hang out the open window. Caitlin almost wet her pants when Lee took both hands off the steering wheel to tie her hair back. Boromir, ever the quick thinker, reached over Caitlin and grabbed the steering wheel with white knuckles.

After Lee blew past a speed-limit sign that looked like it had directed traffic to flow at thirty miles per hour, houses began to appear at the sides of the road. Caitlin was never as relieved as when the speedometer began to drop from ninety to forty. The car stopped outside a veterinary office, and Boromir wasted no time wrenching the door open and scrambling to the solid ground outside. Caitlin followed him hastily and once safe outside, murmured many thanks to the woman, who grinned cheekily and pulled away, tires screeching on the pavement.

"Thank-you!" Once the jeep was around the corner, Caitlin dropped to the ground and kissed the cement sidewalk, ants and all. "I'm alive!" she announced, jumping back to her feet.

Boromir, too, looked thankful to have escaped with his life. "I thought that riding with you was hazardous, but compared to Madame Lee…"

Caitlin slapped him on the shoulder and grinned, "I'm a good driver! Come on—admit it!" He shrugged and a slight look of discomfort shadowed his face briefly. "What's wrong? You've been sort of…weird lately."

A smile turned up his lips, "Thank-you, Caitlin. That's just what every person wants to hear!" he exclaimed.

"You know what I mean." They started to walk towards the door when the light bulb went on in her head. "How are your wounds doing?" He glanced at her and pulled the door open, not saying a word. "I thought so," she nodded slyly, "Perhaps we ought to visit a physician while we're here."

He shook his head and reached as though to grab her arm, "No leeches!"

Caitlin sniggered, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were scared of doctors!" The pale tint to his skin (that had just started to recover from its bout of green) at the mention of 'leeches' was nothing less than hilarious, "Just imagine: Boromir, pride of Gondor, scared of a doctor!"

Glaring coolly at her, he turned away, unsure if he preferred a Cranky Caitlin or a Cheerful Caitlin. She likewise was torn between wanting to strangle Boromir and wanting to cover him in slobbery kisses. The thought of kissing him almost made her start drooling. "Ma'am? Ma'am, may I help you?"

"Huh?"

Once again, Boromir took it upon himself to save the day, as he stepped forward to announce that, "The rat has eaten her cell phone."

"Chihuahua," Caitlin corrected, dragging her errant mind back onto the task at hand and off Boromir. "My Chihuahua did: it ate my phone."

"Oh dear!" the secretary, a mousy-looking woman with black-rimmed glasses and a honey-brown hair pulled neatly behind her head, laughed. "That's not good!"

Caitlin frowned, already disliking the woman. She looked too much like a secretary and acted top…happy. "No duh."

The secretary—Caitlin squinted, trying to read the name on the badge—Doris (her name even sounded secretary-y) seemed not to take offense to Caitlin's sarcasm. "How long ago?"

"Long ago."

Caitlin did not think it necessary to tell the woman exactly when Huan saw fit to consume the phone, but apparently her two human companions disagreed. "Early this morning: before dawn," Boromir supplied, smiling. Caitlin scowled, senseless feelings of jealousy flooding her mind. Her vision took on a red tint and she commenced the glaring routine: Doris would soon have little holes bored through her body—and Boromir too while she was at it! If he started flirting…

"Oh dear!" Doris exclaimed again with an annoying giggle, "We'd better get that taken care of!"

"Thanks for telling us that: we really weren't sure," Caitlin hissed.

Boromir waited until Doris smiled snobbishly and excused herself to talk with the doctor before elbowing her side. "Be polite!" he hissed.

"Who's going to make me? I don't like her!" Caitlin held her breath, hoping that Boromir would say that he'd make her be nice. He didn't, of course. Instead he shook his head and held his hands up beseechingly.

Doris reappeared, still wearing that obnoxious happy little smile, "The doctor says that he'll see you right away. If you'll just come with me?"

She directed them into a clean-looking room with wall-paper of little puppies playing with a ball. Caitlin thought it seemed a little corny. But then she saw the doctor. All thoughts of wall-paper and Boromir were forgotten. "Hello, I'm Doctor Thomas."

"Heehh…" Caitlin drooled, meaning to say 'Hello,' but the words getting lost somehow between her mind and vocal chords.

"Hello," Boromir supplied, his voice seeming sharp. "I'm Boris Clark, and this is my _wife_: Caitlin."

**_A/N3_**: Ooh! A cliffie! At least, as cliffie as it's going to get in here!


	18. Oops

**_A/N_**: I'm on a roll! Thanks for everyone's patience with this story!

**_Disclaimer_**: Still not mine. Unfortunately. :(

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

All thoughts of drool stopped and she turned slowly to look at Boromir. "Excuse me?" He did not flinch, only stared relentlessly at her, "What did you say? Oh my gosh—you…you….freak!" He winced a little at that one, but Caitlin was pretty sure it was because her voice was a few octaves higher than soprano. "I can't believe…the gall…" she spluttered for a few minutes, face turning a nice bright shade of tomato.

"Would you excuse us for a moment?" Boromir asked and took her elbow to lead her from the room. She was too shocked and angry and humiliated to even think about sneaking a peek at the drool-worthy Dr. Thomas and his little assistant Doris. They stepped from the room and back into the waiting room. Once the door was closed, Caitlin took a deep breath.

"We're not married, buddyroo!" she finally hissed, holding up her left hand to show the lack of a ring.

He shrugged, "You need to stop throwing yourself at every man who comes your way. That's no way for a respectable woman to behave."

Caitlin stood on her toes and reached up to wave her finger in his infuriatingly regal face. "Maybe not in the _Dark Ages_! It's the Twenty-first century, Bo, like it or not! Sorry, but you're kind of stuck here! If I want to throw myself at every handsome man I meet, then I will!" she paused and backed away, "By the way: I don't."

"But you do. And besides, I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

"You didn't like the—he wasn't hardly looking at me! And if he was, then that means he thought I was hot too! And now he probably thinks I'm insane!" Caitlin, fuming, stalked across the room, wishing there was something breakable…like Boromir's…no. Even if he was insanely maddening, he was too gorgeous to be killed again. Finally she returned to face him. "So what makes it okay for you to flirt with secretaries named Doris?"

Finally! She seemed to have struck a nerve, as he looked down and shuffled his feet. The hands plopped onto her hips and she tapped her foot impatiently. "That's different," Boromir finally said.

"Really?"

He nodded, "Indeed it is. I'm a man, you're a woman. So for obvious reasons, it's perfectly acceptable. If I was married, it would be different, but I'm not."

Caitlin grinned, "Oh but you are. Or did you forget, baby-cakes?" He glared as she hooked her arm through his. "By the way," she whispered, pulling him down to her level, "You being a man doesn't make it acceptable. If you want to flirt, go right ahead. So will I. Got it?" He smiled icily at her and started to stand again. She pulled his arm down again. "Oh, and another thing. What do you have against the way guys look at me? First it was Ted, now it's Doc."

Now it was his turn to stick his face down by hers. "It wasn't the way that Ted looked at you: it was the way he was grabbing your arm and hurting you!"

"Well as you said: I'm an adult—I can take care of myself!" Caitlin released his arm and walked back to the door, "Shall we, sugar?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Caitlin lifted her eyes from the magazine she had been pretending to read. She wasn't actually even sure what it was she was 'reading.' It had really just been a ploy to avoid talking to Boromir anymore. He was sitting across the waiting room from her, likewise pretending to read a magazine. She frowned and glanced down again at the page she was on: soccer? She flipped to the cover: perfect! She had grabbed a sports magazine. What was Boromir 'reading'? She craned her neck and tried to see, then stifled a laugh. She could hardly wait to tell him it had been a parenting magazine!

The smile faded. She needed to call Isabel. Needed to let her know she would be late. She really did not want to go to the funeral. Her life sucked. She stood and trudged to Doris's desk and plastered a completely fake smile on her face. "Hi Doris!" Doris smiled uncertainly at her. "Can I use your phone? I need to make a call, and my phone is sort of…tied up."

Doris didn't even crack a laugh at the mention of her indisposed phone. "Sure, of course." She gave her the phone, "What's the number?" Caitlin told her and the woman made a face, "Long distance?"

"It's kind of important."

Doris sighed and punched in the numbers. The phone rang twice before someone picked it up. "Hello: Clarks."

"…"

"Hello?"

"Dad?"

"Caitlin! What's up sweetie? Sorry, I didn't recognize the number."

"…"

"Caitlin?"

She hung up the phone and stumbled back, running into something hard. When she turned, Boromir was ready to catch her. "What's wrong, Caitlin?"

"I just…" she stifled a sob, "Talked to a ghost."

Her face hardened as the final piece of the puzzle popped into place. "One more number!"

Doris had started to put the phone back on the receiver, and she stifled a yelp as Caitlin jumped onto the counter and grabbed the phone. She punched in more numbers: the numbers of Isabel's cell phone. It rang four times and then an out-of-breath Isabel answered. "Yes?"

"Isabel."

"Caitlin!"

"What's going on?"

Isabel giggled, "Stop it!...Stop—no I'm talking to my sister."

"Get the guy out of the room and talk to me."

"What's wrong, Caitsey? You sound mad."

"I sound…Is: I just talked to _Dad_!"

"Oops."

"So I'm going to ask you again: What's going on?"

Isabel sighed on the other end, "Promise you won't get mad?"

"It's a little late for that, Is." Caitlin tensed at the feeling of Boromir's hand resting protectively on her shoulder, but, surprising herself, did not try to move it.

"It's your birthday tomorrow, and Dad and Mom wanted to give you a surprise party." Isabel waited as though for affirmation that her sister was listening, but Caitlin made no sound. "So I told them if they'd plan the party…I'd…take care of getting you up here."

Caitlin gripped Boromir's arm so tightly that she actually heard a hiss of pain. "Isabel. When I get up there…I'm going to _kill_ you. _Slowly_."

Isabel laughed, "Oh come on, Caitsey! You're taking this way too seriously!"

"Isabel! You told me that our parents were DEAD!"

"Yeah?"

Caitlin hung up the phone again. "The bitch. The little…I hate her!"

"Caitlin?"

Caitlin was almost ready to cry again, "She told me that they were dead so that I could come up to Wisconsin for a surprise party!" Boromir draped an arm comfortingly over her shoulder and then awkwardly hugged her. "Who does that?"

"All right. Here, come sit down, you're upset." She gave him the no-duh look but accompanied him to the chair. "Do you want something to drink?" She nodded and he pat her on the shoulder, then returned to the desk. Doris was waiting with a bottle of water: what a good little secretary.

Actually, she felt surprisingly better after a few sips of water and she stood again with Boromir's assistance and returned to the phone. "Don't think that you're back in my good graces," she warned.

He smiled and shook his head, "Of course not."

"I need to make one more phone call, Doris," Caitlin said sweetly.

Doris held out the phone, "Please do! This is, if you don't mind me saying so, better than any soap I've ever seen!"

Caitlin would have laughed at the mousy-looking secretary's exclamation if she was not still so upset with Isabel. She called her dad again. "Hi Daddy."

"Hi Caitlin. Is everything okay?"

"I'll explain later. Can you come get me?"

He paused, "Um, sure. Where are you?"

"Illinois. Normal, Illinois."

"It'll be a while."

"I'll wait."


	19. Hotels are nicer

**_Disclaimer_**: All belongs to the great Tolkien, except for Caitlin, but I really don't think he'd want her.

**_A/N_**: Sorry this took so long to update. I forgot how crazy school gets! Just so you know, if I never have to do another study again, it'll be too soon! So, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. If all goes as planned, expect something around the end of the month…

Caitlin crossed her eyes and looked upside over at the dingy motel room: it looked better this way, she decided. Boromir coughed (gagged) and she rolled over onto her stomach to look at him sitting on the bed beside her. "Yeah?" He held a large hand up in the air and coughed again, pounded his chest several times with his chest, and blinked several times. Caitlin grinned: "Me Tarzan."

He coughed once more and winced, "I beg pardon?"

"Sorry—that was really random. You pounding your chest just reminded me of this movie/TV thing." Caitlin grinned even more widely, completely aware that she had totally bewildered him—it was good for him to be confused.

He shrugged, accepting her loose explanation as was becoming his habit and asked, "Do all these inns have this stench?"

"No, but motels are cheaper than hotels, and this was the closest motel I could find to the vet." She sniffed and wrinkled her nose, "I forgot to ask for a nonsmoking room." She rolled back over onto her back and continued to survey the room. The wall to the south had a vent, above which were two small windows. A small bathroom was to the left of the wall and a closet to the right. Beside the closet was a dresser on which sat a television (she smiled when she saw it) and she and Boromir were on the two queen-sized beds. The walls were a dirty yellow-brown color and the carpet stained. She was almost afraid to sleep in the bed for fear she would get lice, but Boromir had performed a lice-check and proclaimed the beds safe. So if anything happened, she knew who to blame.

"So what is the difference between the two?"

"Hotels are better."

"Oh. What do they have in way of food or entertainment?" She rolled back onto her stomach to look at him with raised eyebrow.

"And just what kind of entertainment were you thinking?" she asked, beginning to grin mischievously. He shook his head at her and pushed himself off the bed, beginning to pace the room. It was then that she noticed his very pronounced limp. "Are you okay?"

Boromir smiled at her: a tight-lipped, completely unconvincing, totally adorable smile. "Fine."

"You're lying. We're going to the doctor now."

"I do not require a physician."

She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him towards the door. It was like trying to move a brick wall, except that he was much cuter than a wall. "Come on!"

"I'm fine."

"No you're not!"

"Yes, I am."

"You're not!"

"Caitlin."

"Boromir!"

"Please, just let it rest."

"No!"

"Caitlin!"

"Please!"

"I'll not see a physician."

"Why not?"

"…There is no need."

She glared at him, "Stop trying to be all like macho man and studly and stubborn. There is nothing wrong with going to the doctor. He doesn't bite, I promise. And I don't feel like waking up in the middle of the night and finding out that you croaked in your sleep." She stopped suddenly and blushed, abruptly aware of how very close they were.

He glared at her for a moment with soft grey eyes, immobile. Then he shook his head, "Lady Caitlin: you may be the crassest female I have ever met."

"Does that mean I win?"

He took a step towards the door, still shaking his head. "I suppose if it must."

"You'll like it! Doctor visits are like, tons of fun. There're needles, and they draw blood, and my favorite part is where they hit my knee with the hammer and 'pop!' it flies up and almost hits the doctor: that's fun."

He smiled affectionately at her and touched her shoulder. Her heart skipped a beat. "And quite possibly, you're insane."

"They call me Crazy Cait for a reason!" she grinned and started to babble, "I totally just made that up." _Please don't move, leave your hand there!_ Caitlin could probably stay just like that for the rest of the day, his warm hand on her shoulder. He shifted and the hand started to pull back. Before she knew what she was doing, Caitlin's hand was upwards to intercept Boromir's hand and…

Very nice. Very nice indeed. A smug grin covered Caitlin's face as the two walked side by side to the hospital, fingers intertwined covertly at their sides. Who was holding Boromir's hand? That's right: Caitlin Clark. She skipped for a few steps and grinned up at him. He smiled back down to her and she got all gushy inside. Oh, did she mention that he had also kissed her before they left the hotel room? Not just a quick little friendly peck on the cheek. No, it was a pretty nice kiss. Her initial assumption about his lips was right: they were very kissable.

"So…what does this mean?" he asked quietly.

She grinned at him and thought, '_That we're a couple_:' that was a nice thought. She said, however, "I dunno."

"Will I need to speak to your father?" he persisted.

Still grinning she shook her head, "Nah…about what?" She thought she knew what he was asking, but wanted to hear it from his kissable lips.

Sadly, the look he gave her was a little bit hurt. "About us: I mean, am I correct in assuming that meant that we're…courting?"

"Dating?" she offered helpfully.

"Dating."

'_Hallelujah!'_ "Yeah…" she sighed, thinking that maybe she seemed a little bit too eager, (although who could really blame her?), and added grudgingly, "I mean, if you want to."

He squeezed her hand, glanced around covertly, and when he saw that no one was watching, leaned down to brush her lips softly with his own. "I want to."

She grinned and kissed him back, not caring if anyone was looking, but drawing back when she felt his hesitation. "Good." As they continued to walk towards the hospital, she cursed his chivalry in her thoughts and wondered how long it would take for him to become integrated into her culture. She sighed again as she realized that he had not even been with her for a week. It seemed much longer, all the same.

"Is all well?"

She leaned into his shoulder affectionately and grinned up at his tanned face, "Just thinking."

"About?"

She shrugged. "Nothing."

"You were thinking about nothing?" a smile played at the edge of his lips and she shoved him playfully.

"Yeah. I do that."

Now it was Boromir's turn to shrug, "It seems a waste of time and energy to think about nothing."

"I wasn't actually thinking about _nothing_!" Caitlin explained, beginning to feel a little exasperated.

"So?"

"So what?"

"So what were you thinking about?"

She could tell from his tones that he was teasing her, but it was still irritating. Just because they had kissed and were 'courting' now, he seemed to think that he had the right to pry into her mind and know her thoughts? She didn't think so! "Do you have to be so dang nosy?"

"I only asked to know what you were thinking—it does not seem to be too much of a stretch to think that you might be able to tell me."

"Well it is!" she huffed and pulled her hand away from his, crossing her arms and stepping away to put some distance between them.

"Your problem, Caitlin, is that you're too secretive."

"And you're too much of a know-it-all!"

He mimicked her motion and moved further away as well, "Well one of us needs to use his brain!" She glared at him and stuck her tongue out. He raised his brow and looked away.

Caitlin kept glaring at him, hoping that eventually—eventually being very soon, because she was starting to get bored—her eyes would drill two little holes in him. He was so frustrating! "Ow!" the next thing Caitlin knew, her face was buried in the cement and her ankle was buried in a pothole. Stupid hole.


	20. Dr Chan

**_Disclaimer_**: Not mine. Still. :(

**_A/N_**: Thanks for your patience, everyone! Life ran off on me again and I've had a heck of a time chasing it down. For the time, it's almost under control. Hope you enjoy!

**_A/N2_**: Happy New Year!!!

* * *

Caitlin lay immobile, plastered against the warm sidewalk for a few moments, half hoping she could melt or maybe sink a little deeper into the cement. "Caitlin?" a pair of very distinguishable leather boots appeared in her vision and then two hands tried to pull her up. She struggled to return to the anonymity of the sidewalk. Hm…this was almost as good as a massage. "Caitlin," Boromir's voice grew husky and he leaned down so that his head was at her level and whispered, "you're causing a scene.

It took a moment for his words to register, but when they did, Caitlin's eyes widened and she scrambled to sit up. Eyes still wide, she surveyed the scene and found, to her chagrin, that they were_ alone_. "Liar."

"It worked, did it not?" shrugged her hunkalicious 'boyfriend.' "Now, can you stand?"

After struggling-half-heartedly for a moment she popped her bottom lip out in what she hoped was an irresistible pout and sank back to the ground. Boromir crouched in front of her and lifted her chin, frowning and tsking at the damage inflicted by the cement. "Well now, that's a pretty face."

She pulled away and tried to use his shoulders to stand, but found that her ankle would not support her and she fell back down on top of him. "I think it's broken!" Caitlin wailed desolately and rolled to the side, flailing her arms out dramatically and smacking Boromir's face. He grunted. "Sorry."

Boromir knelt and she could feel him touching her ankle. "Ow!" he poked at a particularly tender stop and she sat up to slap his hands away.

"It's not broken," was the solemn announcement, "only sprained. Here: use my arm as support."

Slowly they both managed to stand, although neither Caitlin nor her ankle were overly thrilled with the fact that she was more or less standing. Boromir took a step forward and Caitlin nearly toppled over, screeching as Boromir's arm tightened around her. "There now, you're all right."

Caitlin frowned. "It's all your fault!"

For a moment she thought that he was going to release her and let her fall back to the ground, so she squealed and clutched his arm. Boromir turned his head ever so slightly to glare down at her, "How is it my fault, Lady, that you are incapable of walking?"

She huffed and looked away, "You distracted me."

Now he smirked at her and squeezed her slightly, "I do have the misfortune of having that effect on females."

"Left." He turned quickly, and Caitlin's face almost made contact with the telephone pole on the corner. "How would you know what effect you have on females?"

The jealousy must have been more evident than she had intended, for he responded cautiously. "I was a member of the court for my entire life—for forty some years."

"And?"

"Well, there were many young women—and some not so young—­" he paused and shook his head, "who were looking for a husband. I'll have you know, Caitlin," he smiled and tapped her nose affectionately, to her disgust, "that I was widely considered to be the most eligible bachelor in Gondor!"

She shrugged and lifted her chin into the air, "Well too bad for them: you're taken."

"I am quite taken," he agreed, smiling.

Caitlin hesitated, unsure if she should ask the question that hovered over her like a bloated grey cumulonimbus cloud that was ready to explode with lightning, thunder, and lots of rain. (Caitlin hated rain.) But curiosity got the better of her, as usual, and so she asked timidly, "Was there—is there—anyone in Gondor?"

The cloud dissipated when he squeezed her again and answered without hesitation. "No: there's no one."

"Good!" she grinned, "Because I'd hate to have to kill you—again." Boromir just laughed.

* * *

The walk-in clinic had two other couples in it: the first was an elderly pair with the sniffles, and the second was a middle-aged mom and her son who appeared to have a rash on his arm. The mom kept smiling flirtatiously at Boromir, who, mindful of Caitlin's presence, pretended not to see her. Caitlin tried twice to go and let the flirt know just whose property Boromir was, but the first time Boromir pulled her back into her seat and the second time the nurse came to call the woman and her son back to see the doctor.

Boromir and Caitlin waited half-an-hour before a nurse finally came for them. "Caitlin Clark and Boris Dorowsky?" Caitlin could have sworn she heard bubblegum pop in the passive looking nurse's mouth. She tried to jump up and would have fallen if Boromir had not interceded gracefully.

"Ms. Clark…it says you sprained your ankle?" Caitlin nodded, pouting to notice the interested gleam the nurse graced Boromir with. "And Boris—can I call you Boris?—" Caitlin's eyes narrowed and she imagined hitting the nurse over the head with the fancy clipboard—"It says you've been experiencing chest and abdominal pain." She looked concerned, "If it's chest pains—perhaps you should go to the emergency room!"

Caitlin interceded and not so surreptitiously, managed to trip the nurse with her good foot. "We know what's causing the pain—it's not heart problems."

"Well sometimes, it can—"

"Could we see the doctor?" Caitlin interrupted, smiling sweetly. And decided that she did not like 'Normal' women by any stretch of the imagination—they were all too flirty.

"Of course, sweetie. Is it all right if we place you both in the same room? We're a little crowded today."

Caitlin nodded and peered sagely at the mostly vacant hall. "You betcha."

Caitlin was not thinking about having to wear the hospital gowns, and although she had little problem wearing the skimpy wrap, Boromir was less than thrilled with the prospect of wearing little more than a scrap of cloth and finally they settled on leaving his jeans on, but wearing the gown instead of a shirt. Caitlin was forced to admit that it wasn't a bad look for him, although he disagreed vehemently.

The doctor finally entered the room: he was a short man with flat black hair and round glasses that sat widely over a narrow face. His name badge said Dr. S. Chan, MD, and she had to fight the urge to give him a cuddly hug—he was just so darn cute! Sort of like a little teddy bear. "Good afternoon, Mr. Dorowsky, Ms. Clark."

"Hi!" she responded chipperly. Boromir shook his hand with one of those cryptic guy smiles.

"So who wants to go first?"

Boromir pointed at Caitlin, "She does," at the same time she was pointing to him.

Dr. Chan grinned, "Ladies first."

Caitlin glowered at him, hoping that he would get the hidden message—that he was not going anywhere without the 'leech' seeing to him. "I fell and sprained my ankle."

Dr. Chan motioned that she should sit on the bed, and then he examined her ankle with great seriousness. "Yes, you did," he finally pronounced. "How exactly did you fall?"

"Apparently the sidewalks move."

He laughed and nodded. "Indeed. Well then, I would like you to stay off it as much as possible, elevate it, and use an ice pack at night." She nodded and hobbled off the bed.

Boromir balked to take her place, and she almost smacked him: going to the doctor was not that big of a deal. "What's the problem?" Dr. Chan asked when they finally had gotten Boromir on the bed.

"Well I, uh, got shot by—"

Caitlin cleared her throat loudly and he glanced at her. Darn it but she had not thought of what to tell the doctor. "_Oh yeah, he got shot by orcs, don't you know_?" That would go over well.

"Hunting accident," she mouthed and he repeated mechanically.

"Okay…" Dr. Chan scribbled something on his clipboard and smiled brightly. "Where were you, uh, 'shot'?"

Boromir glanced at Caitlin, and when she nodded, he pulled the hospital gown away. Dr. Chan's face brightened and he bent down, gazing intently at the three wounds on Boromir's broad, bronzed torso. "How long ago did you say this happened?"

He was now tenderly brushing at the puss on the one nearest Boromir's heart with a cotton swab. "Um…a few…days."

"And why," he motioned the Boromir should sit straighter so that he could inspect the one in his abdomen more closely, "did you not come to a doctor immediately?"

Boromir shrugged and Dr. Chan's arms flapped wildly in what Caitlin assumed was either shock or anger. His little face scrunched up and he shook his head disapprovingly. "I didn't think it was that bad."

"In case you were unaware, Mr. Dorowsky," he reached for his pager, "A wound to your heart and to your abdomen—any wound in this area—can be fatal!"

"I've been shot before," he shrugged cavalierly.

Dr. Chan turned suspiciously to Caitlin, "And who," he asked Boromir, "might your _hunting_ partner be?"

Caitlin tried unsuccessfully to jump up and defend herself. "I didn't even know about it till today!" she lied, "He didn't tell me!"

"Mhmm," Dr. Chan turned away and spoke quietly into his pager.

Caitlin glared at his back and muttered under her breath, "No hug for you!"

When he turned back to face them, his face was every bit as calm as before. "I've called for a stretcher, and they will be taking you to the emergency room. You need, I fear, trauma care."

"He can walk," she defensively snapped.

"Nevertheless: hospital rules."

Caitlin glared at Boromir who shrugged sheepishly. "You know, Bo, before I met you, my life was so uneventful."

"It's much better now, is it not?" he grinned and winked reassuringly at her.


	21. Storytime!

**_Disclaimer_**: I don't know. I sent them all sorts of brownies, and cookies, and even some scones, but I still don't have the rights to Boromir! Never fear, I shall continue with my quest :) I do, though, own everybody else. Mwahahaha...

**_A/N_**: I hope that the lack of reviews on the last chapter was due to the alert system being down. At least….I hope it was! Anywho, on with the story! For, after a long and arduous wait, I have here: a very very very very very long chapter. Well, sort of . I hope y'all enjoy!

* * *

The emergency room would have had a much more comforting aura if she was not sitting in a plastic chair made for someone half her side and if the two uniformed officers occupying the equally miniscule chairs across from her had been smiling. None of them spoke, but Caitlin made faces at them (contorting her eyebrows, blowing imaginary bubbles, sucking in her cheeks to look like a fish, crossing her eyes, and those sorts of things) to see if she could make them laugh. No luck as of yet.

"Miss Clark," the older of the officers either tried to smile or smelled something funny—it was hard to tell which, the way that his face wrinkled around his nose like a drawstring bag. "You've been most cooperative," Caitlin barely resisted the urge to pantomime gagging in response to his blatant lie for she had been anything _but_ cooperative, "And we only need to ask you a few more questions."

"Shoot."

"When did you learn that Mr. Dorowsky had been shot—multiple times—in a potentially fatal area?"

Caitlin made a show of pretending to think about it. The whole thing had a rather surreal quality to it, and after everything that had happened to her in the past few days, she would not have been surprised if both officers had sprouted wings and flown away singing Disney songs. "Today," she finally yawned.

"Are you certain?"

She pretended to struggle to remember again and then nodded decidedly, "It was definitely today."

"How long have you known Mr. Dorowsky?"

Caitlin grinned and shrugged. "_Know_ or know-know?"

His eyes squeezed shut and the skin finally relaxed from its pinched position around his narrow nostrils. "Miss Clark, why am I getting the feeling that you're not taking this seriously?"

Caitlin shrugged again and crossed her legs. "I dunno. Why are you?"

He glanced sharply at his partner who shrugged and made a motion with his hands as if to suggest he was clueless. She peered keenly at his broad forehead and big, guileless eyes before deciding that he was definitely clueless. "Miss Clark, I don't want to have to take you downtown for questioning, and trust me, you really don't want me to have to take you downtown. So please, for both our sakes, try to cooperate and answer our questions."

Caitlin blinked innocently. "I am trying. I mean, you should see me on a bad day." She blinked again…and then once more for effect.

He grunted and she almost laughed as she realized his uncanny resemblance to a pig. Except he was wearing blue and pigs were supposed to be pink. Ah well, small problem. Nevertheless, although she had a firm belief that this questioning would never go beyond the comedy it had warped into, she decided not to test Fate—it had been rather ornery as of late. Mood swings, and all that.

"Listen, sweetie, you want the whole truth? Every dirty nasty little speck of it?" he nodded, his face brightening and his hand tightening around the pen in anticipation. "Okey-day: but don't say I didn't warn you!

"Ivan brought Bo and me together—you know, the hurricane Ivan, not the person… I don't actually know anyone named Ivan, you know. Oh, sorry." She grinned at his exasperated frown and resumed the story. She loved stories. "Well, he sort of got hit in the head by a flying branch and I saw him when I was walking the dog. Or at least, that's what I assume happen, because when I saw him he was lying facedown in the street." She was enjoying this immensely, "So I brought him in my apartment, because it seemed horrible to just let him _dro-o-own_!" she dragged 'drown' out for effect and paused to see how it affected the officers. It didn't. So she sighed and continued, "I'd have called for an ambulance, except that the phone lines were out and…I couldn't find my cell phone." It was plausible enough. And it wasn't as if they'd be able to check and verify, as she was pretty certain that Huan's digestive juices had done the phone in. Poor thing. "So, when he woke up, I asked him who he was, and all that jazz. But he didn't know anything." She leaned forward as if ready to tell them a big secret and then shouted into their ears, "I think it's amnesia!"

They drew back and glared at her. "Fascinating," Pig-face said dryly. "That doesn't explain, Miss Clark, how you two got here to Normal."

"That's my sister's fault!" she said cheerfully. "Hey—is there a criminal complaint for lying and causing unnecessary mental distress?"

Clueless frowned and bit his lip, looking up at the ceiling tiles. "No," he said slowly, "No, I don't think so."

She snickered. "Thanks dear."

"Not a prob." The sad thing was, Clueless seemed completely sincere.

They stopped with their banter when Pig-face cleared his throat sharply and glared sternly at them. "How is your sister to blame?"

"Well, she called and told me that my parents were dead, and that I needed to come home!" she exclaimed cheerfully, "So I did, and then Huan—that's my dog y'know—ate my cell phone and my truck died, trying to take us down with it. So me and Bo trekked across this unending field, and then a farmer in this ginormous tractor took us to his house and then his wife brought us to Normal." She paused, "Got that?" Pig-face nodded. "And then I took Huan to the vet and called my sister for a ride. Except that my dead dad picked up the phone, and then I figured out that it was a lie. Apparently it was supposed to be a surprise birthday party—I dunno." She took a languid sip from her bottled water and scratched the side of her head. "Where was I?"

"Birthday party."

"Oh yeah: thanks. So Bo and I rented a room to stay in until my dead dad drove down—" she faltered, "down…can you think of any other words that start with a 'D'?" Clueless shook his head helpfully and she shrugged, "Oh well. That was when I noticed that he seemed to be in pain, so we came here. See—I had nothing to do with it!"

She sat back proudly and grinned at the officers. Sometimes, her storytelling abilities amazed even herself.

"Okay, we've made some progress," Pig-face murmured, "But this does nothing to explain why you've been calling Mr. er, the patient, by a false name. Care to explain?"

"Boris Dorowsky has much more flavor than John Doe," said Caitlin helpfully.

"Mhmm. And why did you not check him into a hospital, knowing that he had 'amnesia'?" Pig-face frowned at her, beetling his eyebrows in a way that was both a little bit creepy, and fascinating at the same time.

She pretended to take offense. "Forgive me for being a little preoccupied! I mean, my parents had just 'died'!" she held up fingers to mark the quotations around 'died.' "Sorry if I didn't follow _procedure_!"

Poor Clueless seemed genuinely concerned at her apparent distress and he hastened to reassure her. "Oh, don't you worry none, Miss Clark. Ain't nobody mad at you!"

Forget Dr. Chan: Clueless looked Cuddly as well. Especially with the, well, clueless expression on his face and the rather blank look in his eyes. She had to grip the seat with her hands to keep from jumping up and giving him a great big hug. _Can I keep him?_

Pig-face glared at Cuddly Clueless and then stood, bending slightly in a manner that suggested bowing. "Thank-you for your time, Miss Clark. If we have any further questions, is there a way we can contact you?"

She frowned, "Erm…the hotel? I'm at the Holiday Inn, room…20 somethin' or 'nother."

"I'm relatively certain that room twenty-somethin'-or-'nother is not an actual room number," Pig-face observed dryly, "Could you be a bit more specific?"

"You have my name," she said slowly, grinning stupidly. Seriously, who bowed anymore? Besides Boromir—and obviously Pig-face.

They left her perched alone on the little plastic chair, waiting for Boromir to come out of the urgent-care room. After a few minutes of sitting there and growing ever more lonely as she stared at the closed doors and the two empty chairs across from her, she noticed a friendly presence approximately ten feet to her left. A plate of warm, gooey, chocolate-chip cookies that some lovely woman in scrubs had just brought into the waiting room.

She waited for another moment or two, her mouth beginning to water so heavily that her tongue was practically swimming in the cavern that was her mouth. She peered to her right: empty. She peered to her left: two nurses were deep in conversation, and no one was watching the cookies. So she stood slowly, scanning the room suspiciously. As she tiptoed-limped to the cookies' side, she had the ridiculous urge to hum the James Bond theme. (She restrained herself.)

Two cookies now, and—_chocolate_ exploded across her tongue—and two more good luck, and then three cookies for later. Well it wasn't as if anyone else was eating them! Later came very soon, because she just could not abide the thought of those cookies in her purse, all by themselves, with no one to appreciate them. Caitlin loved chocolate chip cookies.

It didn't take long for Caitlin to notice that her face felt unusually warm. And she was sweating. And her eyes were puffy—and watering. A queasy feeling clenched her stomach and she wondered what exactly had been in the cookies? That would be quite the obituary: "Caitlin Clark, mysteriously dead after eating killer cookies." Her stomach grumbled, and she gingerly touched her face. Interesting….

"Surprise!" A familiar voice echoed in the emergency room.

Caitlin looked around the room, puffy red eyes blinking rapidly in protest to the bright light spilling through the open double doors. Then her spasming eyes caught sight of Isabel, struggling to hide a smug smirk. Her eyes narrowed and she lunged forward, almost falling flat on her face. "Isabel I'm going to KILL you!"


	22. Oh, Peanuts!

**_Disclaimer_**: I'm JRR Tolkien. Ha! Gotcha!

**_A/N_**: Happy Easter everyone!

* * *

"It would appear, Miss Clark, that you have developed a peanut allergy," the doctor smiled gently and leaned back.

Caitlin turned her head, grinning stupidly through her swollen face and slowly shook her head. "Nuh-uh."

"Yes, you did."

She kept grinning. He looked sort of like Dr. House, except that so far he hadn't started telling her she was going to die, or being all mean on her. So she shook her head again and mumbled, "Nuh-uh." The doctor folded his arms across her chest and looked at her disapprovingly. "I'm not allergic…to…peanuts." She closed her eyes and kept grinning.

"You are now, Miss Clark. Sometimes these things just develop. It is, perhaps, rather unusual for it to develop this late in your life, but it is entirely possible."

She opened her eyes, "Isabel poisoned me." She nodded wisely.

His cheeks folded up into his eyes as he smiled and laughed. At her. "Your sister? No, I'm afraid that you can't pin that on her. Now I'll leave you, and let you get back to sleep."

"Wait!" she tried to jump up and hit her head on the triangle pulley hanging down in front of her. The doctor winced as she fell back, holding her head and moaning. "Wait…what about Bo? Is he okay?"

His footsteps approached her bed again and he felt her forehead gently with _very_ cold fingers. "Bo who?"

"Bo the dude whom I was waiting for in the ER?" she struggled to open her eyes again. Huh. He had a tattoo with funky writing on his arm, just above his shirt sleeves that were open just enough for her to see it. She couldn't quite read it though.

"I'll ask someone. You seem to be okay, just be careful next time you sit up." He left then, and she could have sworn she heard him snickering as he walked out. Definitely a Dr. House.

* * *

_Well, it was certainly a big hall. Tall black marble pillars stretched up into the vaulted ceiling, and cold statues lined the spaces between the pillars. At the end of the hall—some two or three miles, if she had to guess—were two thrones. One was very tall and ornate, and situated at the top of a mountain of stairs. Below it was a pinched black chair upon which sat an equally pinched man with long dirty graying black hair and a monstrous fur robe._

"_Father, this is her: the woman of whom I have spoken."_

_Caitlin looked to her side and grinned to see Boromir, dressed just as he was when she first met him—except much drier and much much cleaner. His sword swung at his side, and she had to fight the urge to pull it from his scabbard and swing it around. A man in black holding his own sword caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Hmm, better not._

"_This is my wife, Lady Caitlin."_

_Caitlin stopped, the arm that was hooked in Boromir's elbow pulling him to a stop as well. "What the heck? Déjà vu—major déjà vu Bo! Haven't we been over this already? I am _not your _wife! Why do you keep saying that?"_

_He glanced first at her and then at his father, looking outstandingly nervous. "Caitlin…" he whispered in low, pleading tones, "please, be quiet. What's wrong? I know you didn't want to meet my father, but just try to make a good impression on him!"_

"_Heck no! I mean, come on: who's looking at me _this_ time?"_

_He grabbed her hand, "Everyone is right now. Please, can't we just discuss this later?"_

_She glared at him and then realized that her arm was draped in a blue silk sleeve. Puzzled, she pulled her arm forward, intending to unattatch his grip but failing at that, and followed the trail of the fabric up her arm and to her shoulder. Her chest was covered with a cheer lace layer over the silk, and then she shrieked._

"_I'm _fat_!" Boromir was holding her arm even tighter and he pulled her toward him into a tight embrace that also succeeded in muffling her scream. She tried to push him away, but he would not release her, and so she shouted into his chest, "What did you do to me?"_

"_Caitlin," she scoffed in her panic—he sounded like a pleading little girl—"We're married. Don't you remember?" she squeaked again, "And you're expecting a little one in three months' time."_

"_Oh. My. God." Caitlin's knees turned to jelly_.

* * *

Screaming woke Caitlin from her…disturbing dream, and it took her a moment before she realized that it was her who was screaming. A nurse ran into the room and took her by the shoulders, shaking her gently and telling her to wake up. Caitlin glowered at the said nurse, as she had already stopped screaming by that time. The sight behind her almost caused the screams to start afresh, however.

Boromir wore a hospital robe over baggy sweatpants and was hobbling towards her on crutches. "You: stay there!" she exclaimed to him. He stopped abruptly, looking rather hurt and confused. "You": she glared at the nurse, "You leave. Now. Go. Begone!" the nurse finally left, shaking her head and biting her lip. Caitlin almost felt bad when Boromir leaned toward her and whispered that the woman had looked fit to weep.

"Are you all right, Lady Caitlin?" he asked tenderly, "We could hear you screaming from in the hall."

Her jaw dropped, "No I'm not alright! I just had the nightmare to top all nightmares! And I'm in the hospital bed, in a hospital filled with deranged people! No, I'm not alright!"

He hobbled forward despite her warnings and the pillow she threw at him (and missed widely). "Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not with you, thank you very much!" She shivered, remembering the horror of the big belly that led the way in her dream like a fat hippopotamus.

Boromir raised an eyebrow perceptively and sat on the bed at her side. "The doctors say you'll live. They said I would, too, so I suppose that's good."

She looked away and he sighed. "Your father and sister are here. I haven't met them, but the nurse said something about it. Have you spoken to them yet?"

"I was too busy having nightmares, thank you very much!"

A sigh escaped his lips and he leaned over her, looking far too wonderful for her present state of mind. "The fact that you continue mentioning this nightmare of yours implies that you wish to share it. So, please, tell me so that we can both stop thinking about it."

Caitlin turned to her side and stared shrewdly at him. His face looked honest enough. "If you insist," she muttered finally, "but remember that it is _just_ a dream!" He nodded. "Okay. Basically, here's what happened: we were in Gondor and meeting your father, and you said that I was your wife and then I looked down and I was fat."

His eyes widened and he drew back, frowning. "You were…" he paused and glanced at her.

She nodded grimly. "Yup. Like I said—a nightmare." She grinned a bit too brightly with just a touch of sarcasm.

He nodded. "Well, you must realize," he swallowed awkwardly and looked away, "Eh, never mind."

Caitlin's eyes narrowed and she grabbed his arm. "What?"

Boromir's head swiveled aw he surveyed the white walls nonchalantly. "I was just thinking that…well…since we're courting now, there always is the—"

"Heck no! Ew, you perv!" she pushed his arm away. "You're icky!"

The look he turned on her was injured and she felt almost apologetic. "The possibility exists that we would, eventually—not soon, mind—wed."

She frowned and for a moment was angry, then paused to think about it. Dang, but he was right. "Well, whatever. Just don't go getting any ideas in your head, Bo."

He smiled palely, "I wouldn't dream of it, milady."

"Better not, Bo."

A tapping at the door narrowly preceded Isabel launching herself into the room. Caitlin could feel her face reddening and her blood pressure rising at the sight of her despised sister. Isabel wore a skanky miniskirt and a tight tank top that bared her tan midriff—Caitlin hated that Isabel could tan and she couldn't.

"Oh, hello," Isabel's flirtatious voice broke the silence and she held out a hand to Boromir. "I'm Isabel Clark, Caitlin's sister. And you are?"

His eyebrows raised and she could see his shoulder blades stiffening as he took in the ensemble. "I'm Boris. Dorowsky."

Isabel smiled, "Ooh, Polish. I always loved a Polish man."

"Isabel!" Caitlin and her father both shouted at her simultaneously and she looked at them brazenly, smiling.

"Oh, I'm sorry sis. How you doin'?"

She glared at her slutty older sister. "Better before I saw your face."

Isabel grinned. "Oh, it's so good to see you again!" then she launched herself forward to hug Caitlin. From over Isabel's perfumed drench shoulder, Caitlin could see her father and Boromir glance at Isabel's posterior and then look away uncomfortably, clearing their throats. "Don't tell, please," Isabel whispered.

"Get off me, and I won't. And stop flirting with Bo," Caitlin whispered in return.

"It's a deal sis," Isabel kissed her cheek and straightened, smoothing her skirt and smiling smugly.


	23. Adjustment

_**Disclaimer**_: Well…the Incorrect Claims Police (also known more commonly as the ICP—perhaps you've seen them in their lime green cars and hot pink shoes with jet black suits) came to my house yesterday to inform me that I would have to change my disclaimer. Or rather, to inform me that I needed one, as I was about to go on without a disclaimer. So I'm following their orders, or I was told I'd wind up in a blinding orange jumpsuit at the ICP Correctional Facility. It was really a simple choice—orange isn't my color, after all!

_**A/N**_: Sorry this has been so incredibly long in coming. I hope everyone hasn't given up on this story! I've been working 40+ hours every week, and trying to get everything together for college this fall, and have frankly, not had the time to even sit down at the computer, much less write anything! So, again, I apologize, and I love you all:P

* * *

"Huan!" Caitlin wiggled the limp strip of fake bacon several inches above the ground and whistled enticingly. Her dog drowsily lifted his head from his treasured position in the middle of the car's backseat and blinked lazily at her and the food. A few seconds of struggling to win the fight against gravity and hold his head up passed and then the small head collapsed onto the seat with a thud, and Huan's pathetic tail patted the back of the seat weakly. "Huan!" Caitlin barked his name and pointed to the ground, "Out! Now!"

Boromir walked from the rest stop shelter and stopped by Caitlin's side, laughing silently as she shouted at the dog and stamped her feet. "Just go get him out of the car, Caitlin," he suggested mildly and then backpedaled rapidly as she turned her rage onto him.

"I'm not his maid—" her ankle, still weak from the sprain, gave out beneath her when she turned so quickly and she fell forward, saved from falling only by Boromir's broad chest and ready hands. A moment stretched as she paused with her hands on his chest, tantalizingly close to his lips. He grinned and bent to brush her lips with his own, but, blushing, she ducked away and bent, holding her hand out pleadingly towards Huan. "Come on, Huaney: we aren't stopping again for a few more hours and you didn't get out last time."

His tail thumped the seat two more times and then he sleepily pulled himself from the car, staggering slowly forward to collapse at Caitlin's feet. "Come on, you dopey puppy," she finally relented and carried him to the long grass at the edge of the cement, "Go ahead. No one's watching!" despite her reassuring words, her eyes were stubbornly focused on the Chihuahua's drooping body.

Isabel reappeared from the rest stop next, looking as fresh as a morning flower, smiling and relaxed in her white capris and blouse. To her chagrin, Caitlin admitted that her sister's outfit for the day was very cute, and almost made her look like a normal woman in her late twenties. "What's the party out here?" she asked casually, catching Caitlin's eye and then deliberately making the point of not looking at Boromir.

"Nothing, Isabel. Just trying to make the mutt do his thing." Caitlin exclaimed, exasperated.

Isabel shrugged and flounced between the two to the car, "I call shotgun. Don't pressure him too much. Some people—or dogs, whatever—just can't handle pressure." She looked slyly at her sister.

Caitlin shook her head and cleared her throat, "Just what's that s'posed to mean?"

"Oh…nothing…" her words were languid and innocent as Isabel climbed into the seat and slammed the door behind her.

Caitlin's dad was the last one to exit the rest stop bathrooms and he shook his head, looking at Caitlin and shaking his head. "How many times have I told her not to slam the door?"

Caitlin shrugged. "I guess not enough." She sighed and scooped Huan up, ruffling the short coat on the top of his head affectionately, "Come on then, Dopey. Let's go back to sleep, why don't we?" It was difficult to stay angry at him when he was so drugged and sleepy on his painkillers.

They piled back into the car, the only variation from the previous seating arrangement being that Huan refused to curl up in the middle seat, but insisted on sitting behind Isabel so that Caitlin was forced to claim the middle seat in order to put the most distance between Boromir and her sister. She didn't trust her sister, in spite of Isabel's _heartfelt_ promise not to flirt with Boromir, and the way she dealt with competition was to remove it. If only there were some way she could arrange to leave Isabel at one of the rest stops, she could remove competition perfectly… But for now, it worked to just distance the competition.

* * *

They were approximately halfway home from Normal with only a few hours left to the drive, Isabel's pitstops being built into the calculation. Her family had, so far, been stunning with their thrilling conversational skills. Dad had drilled Boromir with unending trivia about football (it being football season) and asked if Boromir hunted at least five times. Isabel seemed convinced that everyone in the car shared her dilemma of not knowing whether she preferred Christian Dior perfumes to Victoria's Secret perfumes and that everyone was as confused as she was as to why the sale at Macy's had not extended to the pair of shoes she was lusting after. Caitlin had long ago developed the habit of grunting whenever Isabel paused to appease her, and she did so now as she slowly drifted away to unconsciousness, lulled by Huan's ceaseless snoring and Boromir's musky odor.

When the car finally pulled up a long gravel driveway to the two-car garage that had long ago become a storage facility of wood and junk, Boromir touched Caitlin's forehead gently with his lips. "Caitlin," he murmured. She grunted and snuggled closer to his chest. "Caitlin…" she frowned and squeezed her eyes shut—why was her pillow insisting on moving? "You need to move," he muttered.

Her eyes popped open. "Where?" He didn't answer her, "I like balloons!"

"What?"

She blinked and looked at him, pushing herself away and almost squishing Huan. "What did you say?" She had been dreaming that she was at a carnival, and that she had a bunch of balloons and the Boromir was shooting at one of the booths to win her a giant bear. But then the ground had shaken and her balloons floated away and that was the part she had woken up during.

"We're home!" Isabel announced sunnily, "And you made me miss the party!"

Her father turned the car off and opened his door, "More importantly, Caitlin missed it. You and I are going to have a little talk, Sunshine."

Through sleep-clouded eyes Caitlin could see Isabel's posture become hostile and she turned to face their father while leaning away at the same time. "You're not in charge of me anymore. I don't live here and I don't depend on your money and certainly not your approval!"

Caitlin rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and watched the two with avid interest. She loved family conflicts… "I'm still your father, Isabel Jane Clark and you'll remember it!" The father and daughter glared tensely at each other while Boromir and Caitlin sat uncomfortably (well, Boromir was sitting uncomfortably—Caitlin was enjoying the drama and leaning forward on her elbow trying not to seem too engrossed while still seeing everything). Then, they both turned at the same time to open their doors and slam them shut and stomp into the house.

"Well, that was fun!" Caitlin exclaimed.

Boromir looked at her and shook his head, "It was awkward and uncalled for! My father would never allow either me or Faramir to speak to him in that manner!"

Caitlin shrugged and moved to open the door. Huan, whose drugs were wearing off, jumped from the car, and ran to the nearest tree, delighted to be on solid ground. "Yeah, well, your dad's kind of psycho—no offense!"

Following her closely from the car, he frowned and shook his head again, "How could I possibly take offense at that, Lady Caitlin?"

"Oh enough with the Lady Caitlin nonsense!" she hissed. Huan whined, sensing the approaching storm, and tucked his tail between his legs, now hobbling to the front door and waiting, pathetically, to be allowed entrance. Casting Boromir a wounded look, Caitlin flounced on her crutches—which proved to be more difficult than it sounded—to open the door for Huan. Boromir shook his head. Every time he seemed to be understanding this strange culture, his understanding was thrown into turmoil.


	24. Mom and Mountain Dew

**_A/N_**: Hello my peoples! It is I, your, er, faithful and beloved author! Actually, ya'll should be very proud of me for turning this out as quickly as I did. Especially since I'm now in college--duhn-duhn-duhn. And it really sucks the inspiration and energy right out of you. Ooh, the sky's really dark. Sorry... :) But yeah, please read this and offer me some honest critique. Or, you know, just drop in an say hi. Whatever works. It makes me smile when the inbox gets clutered. Hey, that cloud looks like an upsid eover mushroom. And the mushroom just made light. Probably should hurry up and finish!

_**Disclaimer**_: Don't worry about the ICC--if you read the last chapter, you know what I'm talking about. (More lightning) They looked over all my registration forms, and it looks like I'm authorized to rent Boromir. (It just thundered) So everything's under control there!

* * *

Her parents' home was exactly the way she had left it five months ago at Easter. Minus, of course, the embarrassingly pink stuffed rabbits that dominated each window during the season. Her mother had a fascinating fixation with the holiday and, more importantly, its mascot. But the furniture was in the same place it had been since Easter—and the five years before it. Three flowerpots were still arranged in a triangle on three tables of staggered heights and Caitlin's college graduation picture was still tipped to the left at an angle of about twenty degrees.

Her mom had apparently been washing dishes as evidenced by a neat ring of bubbles that clung stubbornly to each forearm and the jellybean apron that Caitlin had made for her in a junior high home economics class. "Caitsey!"

"Thanks mom," Caitlin accepted the exuberant hug, "I think my eardrums are bleeding," her voice trailed off when her father discreetly stepped on her foot. She winced.

"Caitsey, are you all right?" her mom pushed her away but still gripped her shoulders in a viselike grip, "You look a little pale…tired? Your father told me about your allergy! Simply awful, I can't imagine how miserable you must be! And honestly, a peanut allergy is so inconvenient—everything has peanuts in it, or was made with peanuts, or by peanuts, and…well…" the endless stream of words faltered for a moment, "And who is this handsome young man?"

Caitlin had nearly forgotten about Boromir, but now she turned quickly to grab his arm and pull him forward, "Mom, this is Bo Dorowsky; Bo, my mother."

Boromir bowed deeply with a grave smile reaching for her Mom's hand, which she granted him with a wide grin. Then she blushed girlishly as he pressed a gentle kiss onto the back of her hand. "A pleasure, Mistress Clark."

"Yeah," she breathed, "You too." She eyed Caitlin and tipped her head slightly, blatantly demanding that Caitlin told her who the charmer was and whether he was available. The nod also implied that if Caitlin did not tell her quickly, that her mom would be forced to take drastic measures.

"We've, er, been seeing each other, Mom." Caitlin groped for Boromir's arm, which he gave her stiffly. She smiled brilliantly. _Teeth_, Caitlin's inner coach urged her, _Lots and lots and lots of teeth._

"Humph," Mom moved to her own husband's side and grabbed his arm for reassurance. "Well, Bo, can I offer you a glass of water, or tea? Soda, maybe?"

Bo glanced at Caitlin and she stared blankly back. It wasn't until he cleared his throat and asked for water that she slapped herself [mentally on the forehead. The poor little tyke had forgotten what soda was. Or maybe she hadn't told him. She wasn't really sure. It didn't really matter. Soda was unhealthy. "I'll have a Dew, Mom."

The look her mom gave her was withering. "Do I _look_ like your servant?"

Caitlin made a face, "Fine. It's good to see you again, too." The four migrated into the kitchen, and Caitlin wondered for a brief moment where Isabel had run off to but then shrugged, because she really didn't care. On the other hand, "Where's Butch?"

"Where _is_ Butch?" her Dad echoed the sentiment.

"Oh," her mother practically beamed, "Butch's at a friend's house!"

"Really?" Caitlin raised her brows.

"Really?" Her dad muttered skeptically.

"Really. Joe Plaine. They're…actually, I'm not sure what they're doing…Butch said they were dissecting cats, but I can't imagine—"

"They're dissecting cats." Caitlin and her dad glanced at each other and laughed. Caitlin loved it when she spoke in unison with people. It made her feel special.

Her mother set an ice-filled glass of water in front of Boromir and another in front of her husband. Caitlin popped the top on a cold Mountain Dew and plopped down onto the barstool beside Boromir. Mountain Dew was, as far as she was concerned, the only _real_ soda. He looked skeptically into her glass and she grinned offering it to him for a taste. He shook his head and leaned close to her ear to whisper, "It looks rather like urine."

"In that case, she whispered back, "pee tastes really good!"

Boromir frowned and grimaced at her declaration and turned slowly, gripping the edge of the counter with tight fingers as though he was afraid to spin too quickly without support in case the stool proved unstable. "Dissecting cats?" he asked mildly, "An interesting hobby."

Her mother's wide smile never faltered and her voice had a proud lilt to it. "Oh yes. Our Butch is very smart. You see, the high school's Anatomy and Physiology class normally dissects cats each year, and Butch is going to take that class in a few years, and he wants to be ready, you see. So he can be completely oriented in the class. He's making a sketch of the internal organs and muscles and bones and…oh sweetie," she looked at her husband and for a moment her face looked disturbingly blank, "what's that other one?"

"Nervous?" Caitlin's dad answered with a question and her mother nodded and smiled widely, the blank gaze disappearing and being replaced with a sweetly clueless smile.

"Oh yes, the nervous system. It's very comprehensive. He showed me the muscles this morning. It's very nearly finished…Butchy could be an artist, you know."

Caitlin snorted and she jerked the cup to her lips quickly to hide the mocking grin that had appeared quite of its own accord. Butch? An artist? She had more artistic talent than he did—actually, she drew a wicked stick person. Her stick people were amazing—she even had names for each of her five stick variations. Donald/Donna was the oldest—his/her back was hunched with a bit of three-dimensional drawing (oh yes, she was that good) and/she he had a cane. Marty/Martha was the second oldest and with a potbelly—two cleverly angled lines on the side of the body. Sam was her male young adult figure and was pretty nondescript except for the biceps that bulged from both arms. Sara was his matching figure, with a long torso and little stilettos attached to the bottom of her feet. Then there was Junior, which was the most basic of stick figures. Yes, she had talent.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" her mother leaned across the counter and patted her daughter's cheek. "You looked lost for a moment."

Caitlin jerked and smiled a smile that could almost compare with her mother's trademark clueless expression. "Oh yes. I was just…musing on my brother's talent and, er, missing him. Very much. It's dreadful."

Her dad's eyebrows arched incredulously and he looked to be on the verge of making some mocking comment but Caitlin's stern narrowing of her eyebrow's shushed him. She had trained him well. "When is Butch coming home, Susan?"

She shrugged and smile, "Oh, I don't know. I made meatloaf, you know."

"That's nice, mom."

Her smile widened, "Yes. It's grandma's recipe. I went to the market yesterday. It was fresh beef, you know. No preservatives. Do you like meatloaf, Bo?"

"I, er," he looked surreptitiously at Caitlin who, feeling her mother's soft gaze, froze. "Well, there's meat in it, Mistress Clark. I'm rather fond of meat."

"Oh I am too!" she squealed, "But Caitlin's a bit of a spoilsport, aren't you Caitsey?" When neither of her family members supported her supposition she continued, "She's a vegetarian."

Caitlin debated informing her mom again that had been a six-month phase in the eleventh grade. However, as that had been six years ago, she didn't really think that it would do much good to tell her again. So she smiled and patted her mother's hand. "How have you been, Mom?"

"Good. I missed you of course. You know, I ran into Laura the other day. She said that St. John's is looking to hire a second grade teacher. You could move back ad be so close to home. Wouldn't you like that?"

_No._ "Maybe."

"And besides, you spent all that money on school. Wouldn't you like to do something besides work in a burger joint?"

"Susan…" her dad's voice had a warning in it.

"I happen to _like_ working in the burger joint, Mom."

"Well, I still think you should look into it. I like being near my children."

Caitlin drained the mountain dew and stood to refill her cup with water, "Mom, I just want to take a break, okay? It's nothing personal."

"A break? A break from me, you mean?"

She cringed. That might have been the wrong thing to say. "No, Mom. Just…a break from everything. Not you."

Her mother harrumphed. "How long will you be here this time?"

"I don't know…" Caitlin looked at Boromir who shrugged and took a dainty sip of water. She chuckled. He looked like a prissy little princess when he drank like that. "I have to buy a new car. Rusty's gone."

"That's another reason why—"

Dad interrupted, saving Caitlin's skin and she could have kissed him. "Susan, dear, why don't you tell Caitlin and Boris about the market?"

The dangerous look disappeared and was replaced by a thrilled toothy smile, "Oh, well, you see…"


	25. Of Attics and Shopping

_**A/N**_: Again, I apologize for taking so freaking long to update!!! Believe it or not, this chapter has been more or less done for the last week, but I've just been too lazy to connect my computer to the internet and upload it. But yeah, here it is! Thanks for waiting and Merry Christmas, etc. )

_**Disclaimer**_: I don't smoke pipes and I'm not an old British man—stop looking at me like that! He was old! So that means that Bo is, unfortunately, not mine.

* * *

Caitlin excused herself from her family's company very early, stumbling up the stairs to her old room. It was so nice of her parents to keep it for her, even if she never came home anymore. She didn't even bother turning on the light, because the only business she had with the room involved the bed, and she knew exactly where that—

"Ow." From her new position sprawled on the hardwood floors, the faint shadowy outlines of furniture began to appear. Then her mother's quivery voice sang through the floor.

"Caitsey? You okay? I rearranged the furniture a little!"

Caitlin crawled to her feet, using some sort of wooden contraption to support her and reached for the light switch by the door. Thankfully, _it_ at least, hadn't moved. The light bulb hummed and strained above her, flickered on, popped once, and then cast a steady, if weak, light across the room. "Rearranged a _little_?" If it weren't for the signature bubblegum-pink aura of the room, she wouldn't have recognized it. The floor was cluttered with old furniture in various stages of wholeness. The walls were littered with old dusty pictures. The windowsills housed several species of insects. It looked as if her room had become the attic. It was difficult to find the bed, so surrounded was it by boxes and crates, and covered with old letters and empty picture frames. Once Caitlin had made her way to it, she looked down at the dusty worn cover and sighed. "Darn it."

Caitlin turned and made the arduous journey back to the door. Isabel could sleep on the floor for all she cared. The spiders and junk could have the "attic." She was going to sleep in a real bed if it was the last thing she did!

Even if Isabel was an awful cruel and slutty sister, her room was positively marvelous. The walls were a warm blue and she had creamy white curtains and spindly furniture of the same shade as the curtains. More importantly, she had a mattress that definitely ranked above average in terms of comfort. Caitlin smiled tenderly at it and then, with no further ceremony crawled between the smooth sheets and promptly fell asleep.

An uncomfortable pressure on her shoulder woke Caitlin sometime in the night and she opened her eyes to see a frowning Isabel yanking on her arm fiercely. "Go 'way," Caitlin grumbled and buried her face in the pillow.

"Caitsey, this is _my_ room and I'm tired!" Isabel whined.

Caitlin lifted her face bare centimeters from the pillow and mumbled something about her sleeping on the couch. Or that was what she thought she said, but seconds later, she felt the bed shift and someone pushed her over so that she was barely even on the mattress. Next ensued a fierce battle of tug-of-war with the sheets, which, predictably, Caitlin lost miserably. Isabel did not even have the decency to leave her the scratchy blanket but clutched it greedily and turned away from Caitlin. Glaring proved ineffective, and Caitlin feared that if she were to go in search of a blanket, she would be doomed to the rock-hard couch that smelled like old coca-cola—ancient coca-cola. And so, she resigned herself to curling into a pathetic ball and holding the pillow protectively in her arms. She wouldn't put it past Isabel to attempt to steal that last piece of comfort.

A disturbing dream ensued when she finally recovered the precious stage of sleep. She did not remember the details of it in the morning, except that tall yellow bunnies and talking tomatoes were involved. She lay on her back for a few minutes after waking, staring at the yellowing ceiling and trying to make sense of the bizarre vision. The door opened and Isabel slipped through, wrapped in a fluffy blue towel, vigorously drying her hair.

"Isn't it time you got up?" she asked mildly. Caitlin grunted: she was so close—it was something about the tomatoes trying to take over the world…or was it the bunnies who were aiming for world dominion? And what did a wedding have to do with anything? "I'm going shopping in a couple hours." Caitlin grunted again, wishing Isabel would leave so she could go back to sleep. Isabel dropped onto the bed, effectively cutting off all circulation to Caitlin's lower extremities and crushing her kneecaps.

"Ow!" Caitlin growled irritably and tried to kick her sister while twisting away. "What the hey?"

Isabel turned her head and smiled cheerily, "You just don't get a hint, do you, pudding? I'm going _shopping_." Her fingers began to weave through the air, vaguely resembling a person walking. "Do _you_" her fingers now pointed at Caitlin, "want to _come_" she gestured at the both of them and smiled.

Caitlin's eyes that were still sleep-crusted narrowed. "Are you asking me to spend an afternoon with you?" Isabel nodded and finally rolled of Caitlin's legs as her sister jumped up theatrically and threw her arms into the air. "Quick! Someone call a doctor! She's sick!" She turned and grabbed both of Isabel's forearms and stared searchingly into her eyes, "What have you done with my sister? Where is she?"

"Shut up!" Isabel slapped her hands away and frowned, although Caitlin could see the amusement in her eyes, "Come on, Caitsey: we're adults! Can't we just let the past be and move on?"

It was the younger's turn to frown. "You _frenched_ my boyfriend. _My_ boyfriend. Remember?"

Isabel shrugged guiltily. "Maybe we should look at it as me doing you a favor." Caitlin repeated the last two words incredulously. And Isabel nodded emphatically, warming up to her assertion, "Yeah! A favor: I mean, seriously, if Cory would kiss his girlfriend's sister, there's no telling _who_ he'd have kissed!"

"_You_ came onto _him_!" Caitlin reminded her, her anger growing. So much for being over her cheating first boyfriend.

"He didn't walk away!" Caitlin glared at her, even though she was right that Cory had been at least partly to blame. Isabel grinned, "You're right! I'm a sleaze! But I'm _your_ sleaze!"

Caitlin laughed despite herself and crawled out of the bed. "That's _so_ not funny."

"Does that mean you're going shopping with me?" Isabel asked hopefully. Caitlin grunted. "Just us though—not Bo. I mean he's hot and all, but I just wanna spend some time with my favorite sister!"

"Suck-up: I'm your only sister." Caitlin tossed a pillow at her and smiled despite her surly tone.

"My favorite." Isabel jumped to her feet and skipped to the closet, "What to wear?"

Caitlin stood in the dressing room outside the door that veiled Isabel from the outside world. "Why can't I just come in?"

"Because I want to surprise you!" Isabel whined, rather petulantly. Caitlin banged her head on the dressing room door. "Okay—you can come in now."

She opened the door and allowed Caitlin stepped in. Her mouth fell open and she gaped, speechless, at Isabel. She struggled to find the right words, but nothing would escape her lips. "Well?" Isabel giggled nervously.

"I…I _like _it!" Caitlin was unsure if she was more surprised that she actually liked her sister's clothing, or that it was actually modest. "You could, like, actually go outside in it without completely humiliating yourself!"

Isabel made a face and turned slowly, sliding her hands over her waist and hips, smoothing the salmon skirt. She wore a white ruffled blouse with pink trim that was tucked into the neat knee-length skirt. "You prob'ly want to know why I'm wearing this."

She shrugged and laughed. "Well, I wasn't going to actually _ask_ you, but…yeah."

"Honestly?" Isabel laughed and turned so that Caitlin could unzip the skirt for her, "It's your boyfriend." Caitlin stiffened and stepped away, glaring at Isabel, who laughed breezily. "Jeez! Seriously—you're so uptight all the time! It's totally not even like that. It's just that…when he looked at me, he wasn't even turned on, ya know?" Caitlin smirked. "He looked…disgusted: like I was a slut or something."

Now Caitlin laughed. "Uh, Is? Hate to break it to you, but…" Isabel glared at her and slapped her playfully.

* * *

Caitlin felt more like a pack-mule and less like a sister by the end of the seven-hour shopping marathon. It seemed that Isabel had bought something from nearly every single store they had _walked_ by. And, of course, she was completely incapable of carrying her own bags, and so it was that Caitlin's arms were decorated with some twenty bags. It actually wasn't that bad: she couldn't even feel her arms any more. At least she did get a new pair of jeans and Chinese food out of the trip.

"So we should go see a movie!" Isabel exclaimed, smiling brightly. Caitlin glared at her. "What?"

The Focus' trunk opened and Caitlin fell into it. Her sister pulled the bags off her arms and pushed Caitlin away: she felt strangely light without the bags—almost as though she might float away. "Do you never run out of energy?" she asked sourly, clutching the side of the car as the light breeze threatened to lift her into the air.

Isabel shook her head and grinned. "Shopping invigorates me!" Frowning, Caitlin stumbled to the shotgun seat and collapsed, asking resignedly what Isabel wanted to see. "I was thinking _White Christmas_."

Caitlin barely glanced at her. "It's September, you doorknob."

"So?"

"Christmas is in December."

"Or July."

"What?"

"Never mind." Isabel backed slowly out of the parking lot.

They sat in silence for a moment and then Caitlin poked Isabel in the arm and grinned, "Besides, we'd have to rent it—no theater is showing it." Isabel grinned and Caitlin got a sinking feeling in her stomach. Somehow, she got the feeling that the day had nowhere near begun.


End file.
